THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND 


OTHER  WRITINGS. 


OTHER     ADDRESSES, 


PAPERS   CRITICAL   AND   BIOGRAPHICAL. 


GEORGE    LUNT. 


BOSTON: 

TICKNOR    AND    FIELDS. 
MDCCCLVII. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1857,  by 

GEORGE    LTJNT, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


BOSTON. 

B.  W.  DCTTON  AND  SON,  PRINTKBS. 
37  Congress  Street. 


PREFACE. 


THE  first  three  articles  in  this  volume,  together 
with  that  on  a  disputed  passage  of  Shakespeare,  never 
have  been  printed  before.  That  which  stands  earliest 
in  the  order  of  arrangement  was  pronounced  at  the 
request  of  the  New  England  Society  of  New  York,  in 
December,  1856.  The  author  has  thought  it  proper  to 
retain,  for  this  performance,  the  title  under  which  it 
was  written  and  spoken,  although  it  will  be  seen,  that 
a  suitable  reason  induced  him  to  modify  somewhat 
his  original  plan.  The  second  production  was  deliv 
ered  a  year  ago,  and  also  more  recently  on  several 
occasions,  as  a  Lyceum  Lecture ;  and  the  third  was 
given,  also  as  a  Lecture,  before  various  similar  asso 
ciations,  about  ten  years  since.  The  Address,  at  the 
dedication  of  Horticultural  Hall,  originally  published 
by  the  Massachusetts  Horticultural  Society,  has  been 
subjected  to  some  slight  changes,  chiefly  of  expression, 
for  the  purposes  of  the  present  publication.  The 
brief  eulogy  on  General  Taylor  was  offered  to  the 
Circuit  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  First  Cir 
cuit,  at  the  opening  of  its  session,  July  15,  1850, 
while  the  author  held  the  office  of  Attorney  of  the 
1* 


Vi  PREFACE. 

United  States  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts.  The 
use  already  made  of  the  other  writings  in  the  volume 
is  sufficiently  indicated  in  the  introduction  of  each 
piece.  Of  the  Lectures,  it  is  proper  to  say,  that 
portions,  and,  in  some  instances,  very  considerable 
portions,  were  omitted  in  the  delivery. 


CONTENTS. 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND, 9 

USES  AND  ABUSES  OF  THE  DAILY  PRESS, 67 

MR.  MACAULAY  ON  WARREN  HASTINGS, Ill 

DEDICATION  OF  HORTICULTURAL  HALL, 177 

PRESIDENT  TAYLOR, 207 

FISHER  AMES, 215 

CHARLES  JACKSON, 233 

LECTURE  BY  RUFUS  CHOATE, 249 

A  SHAKESPEARIAN  RESEARCH, 258 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND: 
A    LE  CTURE, 

DELIVERED  BEFORE   THE   NEW  ENGLAND  SOCIETY  OF 
NEW  YORK,   DECEMBER  3,  1856. 


THE  beginnings  of  a  nation  arc  necessarily  small. 
I  speak  not  more  of  its  numbers,  than  of  its  condition 
and  habits.  Nature,  at  the  commencement  of  all 
colonial  existence,  takes  the  place  of  art,  and  the 
wants  of  nature  are  few  and  simple.  It  is  surprising 
how  summarily  a  removal  from  that  state  of  society, 
which  may  be  styled  the  common  round  of  civilized 
being,  strips  us  of  our  acquired  tastes,  and  of  the 
customary  usages  of  our  lives,  and  even  of  many  of 
our  most  ordinary  necessities.  Conformity  with  the 
mere  absolute  requirements  of  life  becomes  then  the 
result  of  that  law,  which  is  emphatically  the  essence 
of  reason.  The  object,  for  which  we  then  erect  the 
rude  and  shapeless  hut,  is,  that  we  may  be  shielded 
from  the  unfriendly  elements.  And,  then,  the  un 
hewn  timber,  or  unchiselled  stone  serve  the  same 
purpose,  in  our  behalf,  as  base  and  pediment,  facade, 


10         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

colonnade,  architrave  and  frieze,  contrived  by  the 
inward-looking  eye  of  genius  and  wrought  out  by  the 
most  curious  manipulations  of  art.  Our  primary 
necessities,  of— 

food,  clothes  and  fire, 

we  shall  then  reckon  to  be  all  honestly  supplied, 
though  the  meat  be  not  presented  upon  the  burnished 
service,  which  illuminates  the  banquet,  nor  the  gar 
ments  glitter  with  the  lustre  of  invaluable  jewels,  nor 
the  genial  warmth  be  tempered,  equalized,  and  con 
trolled  by  the  application  of  any  artificial  aid. 

Whenever  this  is  the  state  of  man,  the  impertinent 
fictions  and  weak  sophisms  of  life  die  out.  The  bor 
rowings  and  lendings  of  the  human  creature  fall 
away  from  him,  under  the  rigid  discipline  of  primeval 
necessities,  as  the  encrusting  dirt,  which  bcdimmed 
the  diamond,  is  removed  by  the  hard  process,  which 
reveals  and  confirms  its  inestimable  price.  The  voice 
of  the  mountain  winds  would  mock  at  the  most  indis 
pensable  and  best-recognized  trappings  of  polished 
society,  as  they  rent  them  away,  and  fastened  them 
fluttering  in  the  crevice  of  the  cliff,  or,  bore  them 
onwards  to  the  unknown  wilderness,  and  would  hail 
its  very  comforts  with  the  shout  and  laughter  of  deris 
ion.  And  what  more  piteous  spectacle  could  be 
exhibited,  than  the  favorite  of  the  most  courtly  circle, 
arrayed  for  triumphant  conquest,  sitting  solitary  and 
helpless  in  the  desert,  where  life  itself  is  only  granted 


THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.         11 

to  the  hands  and  eyes  and  nerves,  which  know  how 
to  reduce  its  rugged  heart  to  a  serviceable  subjec 
tion? 

So  far,  therefore,  as  our  familiar  and  inherent  char 
acteristics,  which  form  the  very  foundation  of  our 
nature,  and  make  us  good,  or  make  us  great,  are  liable 
to  become  diluted  or  perverted  by  the  sophistications 
of  social  being,  they  may  acquire  an  actual  refresh 
ment  and  renewal,  under  the  severe  and  inevitable 
trials  of  colonial  existence  ;  and  thus,  from  the  corrupt 
bosom  of  an  outworn  empire  may  spring  that  newer, 
and  more  wholesome  flood  of  life,  which  shall  invigo 
rate  a  world. 

This,  then,  is  the  absolute  law  of  all  legitimate 
emigration,  that  it  leaves  behind  it  the  weaknesses, 
the  concretions  and  superfluities  of  artificial  life,  and 
founds  its  new  existence  upon  an  appeal  to  the  pri 
mordial  elements  of  natural  society.  Pretence,  which 
so  constantly  dazzles  the  unthinking  multitude,  can 
not  stand  a  moment  in  the  presence  of  a  reality,  of 
which  daily  experience  compels  the  application  of  its 
entire  physical,  intellectual  and  moral  development. 
Even  wealth  itself,  that  universal  criterion  of  every 
civilized  community,  becomes  only  adventitious,  where 
true  worth  and  sterling  sense  are  requirements  of 
indispensable  utility.  Respect  clings  only  to  those 
qualities,  which  arc  valuable,  because  they  are  abso 
lutely  useful,  and  he  alone,  who  surpasses  his  fellows 


12         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

in  wisdom,  knowledge,  and  the  substantial  attributes 
of  heroic  virtue,  stands  forth  a  king  of  men. 

That  most  charming  of  all  simple  stories,  of  which 
boyhood  never  wearies,  owes  more  than  half  its  inter 
est  to  the  very  principle  I  have  suggested.  This 
certainly  does  not  result  mainly  from  a  consecutive 
relation  of  incidents,  often  trivial,  and  seldom  claim 
ing  sympathy  with  what  are  commonly  accounted  our 
higher  and  more  absorbing  emotions.  But  it  is,  be 
cause  we  are  taught  to  respect  and  value  a  human 
being,  positively  despoiled  of  every  external  aid,  and 
reduced  at  once  to  the  independent  exertion  of  his 
intelligent  faculties  and  capacities, — who  thus  con 
quers  fear  and  weakness  and  the  cruelty  of  fortune, 
and  alone,  amidst  the  utter  solitudes  of  nature,  be 
comes,  in  a  far  higher  than  any  figurative  sense,  the 
monarch  of  all  he  surveys. 

It  is  on  this  field,  therefore,  that  the  human  charac 
ter  is  not  only  tested,  but  developed  and  matured. 
For  here,  it  is  the  inevitable  tendency  of  life  to  revert 
to  those  fundamental  principles,  which  we  see  only 
dimly  through  the  mist  and  haze  of  artificial  society. 
We  are  apt  to  believe,  that  the  imagination  of  the 
poet  alone  must  have  invested  the  progenitors  of  a 
people  with  those  attributes  of  greatness  and  heroism, 
which  scarcely  find  any  response  amidst  the  hollow 
echoes  of  our  own  unreal  hearts.  We  have  been  con 
versant  with  the  weaknesses,  the  compromises,  the 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         13 

pusillanimities,  and  the  manifold  perversions  of  social 
existence ;  we  have  looked  upon  its  arrogant  show, 
and  have  observed  the  success  of  those  mere  imitative 
propensities,  which  it  accepts  so  readily  as  a  substitute 
for  sterling  merit.  We  know  how  all  these  indications 
mark  the  outward  progress,  as  they  testify  equally  to 
the  declining  vital  energies  of  a  nation, — and  we  can 
scarcely  conceive  how  there  could  have  been  behind 
us,  in  the  far  and  twilight  past,  a  passionate  longing 
for  the  truth  and  an  unshaken  fortitude  of  soul, — a 
courage,  a  strength,  a  justice  and  a  virtue,  which 
were  not  then,  if  now,  little  more  than  irreducible 
abstractions,  but  as  truly  and  necessarily  the  solid 
foundations  of  a  rising  state,  as  they  are  the  adaman 
tine  pillars  of  universal  and  intelligent  creation. 

There  may  be  more  semblance  of  truth,  therefore, 
than  we  sometimes  imagine,  in  the  crude  memorials 
of  remote  antiquity  •;  and  the  philosophic  historian  has 
wisely  refrained  from  rejecting,  as  utterly  fabulous, 
much  which  is  commonly  considered  to  denote  only 
the  age  of  fable.  For  uniform  experience  teaches, 
that  some  of  our  noblest  qualities  were  exhibited  un 
der  the  severest  pangs  of  penury  and  suffering,  and 
often  even  those,  which  might  seem  half  to  warrant 
the  traditional  deification  of  demigods,  whose  uncer 
tain  characters  loom  up  indistinctly  through  the 
shadows  of  distant  centuries,  or  who  still  lower  upon 
us,  in  imaged  marble,  from  their  crumbling  pedestals. 
2 


14         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

And  thus  it  may  be,  that  the  stern  muse  of  early 
history  intended  only  to  characterize  the  idea  of  naked 
privation  itself,  in  the  exemplification  of  that  savage 
nurse,  around  whose  gaunt  and  shaggy  bosom  clung 
the  infant  arms  of  the  founder  of  eternal  Rome. 

And  this  general  view  of  the  subject  is  susceptible 
of  more  or  less  faithful  application  to  the  early  period 
of  every  people,  which  has  laid  the  foundation  of  a 
flourishing  empire  amongst  the  unconventional  sim 
plicities  of  colonial  existence, — not  surely  by  reason 
of  any  conformity  with  the  characteristic  sordidiiess  of 
savage  life, — but,  because  sovereign  nature,  then 
sitting  supreme,  requires  the  manifestation  of  solid 
virtues,  and  of  qualities,  manly  or  womanly,  as  they 
should  be ;  and  demands  and  enforces  a  recurrence  to 
those  elementary  and  immortal  principles,  of  universal 
obligation,  which  become  refined  away,  or  at  least 
partially  obscured,  amidst  the  clashing  relations,  the 
gathering,  varying  and  rapidly  intermingling  interests, 
and  all  the  dust  and  struggle  and  fever  of  a  progressive 
and  sensuously  practical  and  degenerately  luxurious 
age. 

That  rugged  integrity  of  the  mistress  of  the  ancient 
world,  when,  in  the  flush  of  her  unblemished  youth, 
she  sought  the  sweet  Egerian  grot,  to  take  counsel  of 
more  than  mortal  wisdom, — or  that  fundamental  moral 
lesson,  without  which  nothing  is, — so  impressed  upon 
the  still  earlier  Persian — to  speak  the  truth, — in  the 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.          15 

palace,  or  on  the  plain,  or  as  he  ascended  the  moun 
tain  tops  to  hold  communion  with  the  stars, — are  no 
more  characteristic  indications  of  the  training  of  a 
mighty  nation,  than  those  weary  years  of  the  wilder 
ness  and  painful  wanderings  of  the  chosen  people, 
before  their  eyes  were  permitted  to  behold— 

Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood, — 

which,  by  the  irreversible  covenant  of  ages,  they  and 
their  children  were  yet  to  see 

Stand  drest  in  living  green. 

But,  certainly,  never  before  so  manifested,  and  quite 
as  certainly,  never  again  to  be  illustrated,  in  the  same 
manner  and  degree,  is  that  eminent  exemplification 
of  these  principles  to  be  found,  in  the  settlement  and 
progress  of  our  beloved  New  England, — of  that  New 
England,  to  which  our  hearts  turn  with  a  devotion, 
which  seems  to  us,  at  least,  to  be  neither  due,  nor 
claimed,  nor  recognized  by  any  other  country  or 
clime, — of  that  New  England,  to  which  her  children, 
scattered,  as  many  of  them  are,  at  the  remotest  ex 
tremities  of  the  world,  cling  by  peculiar  ties  and 
sacred  associations  and  a  closer  kindred, — of  her, 
whom  we  so  love  and  venerate,  as  the  common  mother 
of  us  all — and  so  personify,  under  this  familiar  and 
endearing  appellation,  that,  looking  towards  her  from 
those  places  of  exile,  her  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
homes,  scarcely  divided  from  one  another  by  any 


16         THREE  EEAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

unfraternal  wall  of  separation,  seem  all  and  each  to 
be  almost  equally  our  own. 

For  never  again  can  there  be  such  preparation  and 
such  a  result.  No  unexplored  continent  is  again  to 
cheer  the  eye  of  the  long-baffled  and  almost  despond 
ent  mariner — now  doubted,  as  if  it  must  be  only  some 
delusive  cloud,  and  now  re-hailed  with  the  joyful  cry 
of  "  Land !"  as  it  rises,  low  and  distant,  under  the 
eyelids  of  the  morning,  along  the  dim  horizon  of  the 
dreary  main.  Never'  again,  by  some  yet  unborn  Co 
lumbus,  will  a  new  world  be  given  to  the  kingdom  of 
Castile  and  Leon.  Never  again  will  human  memo 
rials  be  emblazoned  with  the  enduring  record  of  all 
their 


-better  fortitude 


Of  patience  and  heroic  martyrdom. 

Never  will  be  relighted  the  gospel-kindling  fires  of 
Smithfield, — never  be  rewritten  a  like-affecting  story 
of  the  unexampled  exile  of  Leyden, — never  such  a 
history  of  that  one  perilous  traverse  of  the  unknown 
deep, — instead  of  the  southern  verdure  which  hope  had 
fondly  anticipated  and  portrayed,  to  picture  the  bare, 
blank  aspect  of  that  wild,  inhospitable  sandcape, — to 
tell  of  the  half-timorous  yet  half-hostile  greeting  of  the 
savage,  of  the  biting  and  bitter  welcome  of  winter,  and 
all  from  which  the  heart  shrinks,  as  the  eye  wanders 
over  that  simple  narrative,  of  dangers  where  there  was 
no  fear,  and  sufferings  where  there  was  no  despair. 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         17 

For  my  own  part,  I  care  little  for  the  natural  im 
perfections  of  such  men.  It  is  superfluous  to  defend 
the  founders  of  New  England.  A  vain  and  thankless 
task  is  his,  who  attempts  to  underestimate  their  vir 
tues,  or  to  detract  from  the  majestic  proportions  of 
the  gray  fathers  of  the  people.  Their  personal  faults 
passed  with  them  into  the  grave, — their  just  princi 
ples  and  noble  actions  survived  and  blossomed  into  a 
living  harvest  of  sacred  and  immortal  memory.  Re 
versing  emphatically  the  sad  doctrine  of  the  sentiment 
uttered  over  the  dead  body  of  Caesar, — the  good  they 
did  lives  after  them,  while  the  evil,  if  evil  there  were, 
ended  with  their  lives  and  is  charitably  interred  with 
their  bones.  Their  imperishable  monument,  not  con 
tracted  to  the  too  narrow  dimensions  of  any  mere 
material  and  precarious  foundation,  and  exhibiting 
to  the  outward  eye  neither  glittering  shaft,  nor  airy 
pinnacle,  is  coextensive  with  the  considerate  judgment 
of  mankind.  More  fortunate  than  the  progenitors  of 
any  other  race,  there  is  neither  obscurity  nor  uncer 
tainty  in  the  plain,  clear  and  conscientious  narration 
of  their  simple  and  pious  annals ;  and  no  lapse  of 
time  can  obliterate  the  undisputed  memorials  of  all 
they  were  and  did  and  suffered.  If  nothing  else  had 
ever  been  written  in  their  favor,  there  are  two  records, 
at  least,  which  will  last  forever  to  their  praise.  When 
the  first  colony,  which  fled  from  the  persecutions  of 
home,  on  the  eve  of  their  departure  for  their  future 
2* 


18         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

habitation  in  the  wilderness,  was  now  about  to  bid 
that  final  and  most  affecting  farewell  to  those  hospit 
able  arms  which  Christian  Holland  had  opened  for 
their  refuge,  the  magistrates  of  Ley  den  solemnly 
declared,  that  during  their  residence  of  twelve  years, 
—which  we  well  know  were  years  of  almost  unparal 
leled  trials  and  privations, — "  these  English"  had  not 
troubled  the  city  with  a  single  suit,  or  any  sort  of 
controversy ;  and  the  greatest  historian  of  England, 
regarding  their  religious  opinions  with  disdain  and 
their  political  tendencies  with  a  strongly-defined  and 
systematic  hostility,  yet  pronounces — "  So  absolute 
was  the  authority  of  the  crown,  that  the  precicms 
spark  of  liberty  had  been  kindled  by  the  Puritans 
alone ;  and  it  was  to  this  sect  that  the  English  owe 
the 'whole  freedom  of  their  constitution."  To  the 
peaceable,  therefore, — peaceable,  when  no  rights  in 
dispensable  to  peace  itself  were  infringed, — and,  thus 
minded,  who  assumed  the  sword,  only  that,  by  it,  they 
might  establish  such  tranquil  rest  as  liberty  alone 
allows,  we  owe  that  flame  of  freedom,  which,  but  for 
them,  had  slumbered  upon  its  embers  throughout 
prostrate  and  oppressed  Europe, — and  another  Chris 
tendom,  to  be  purer,  as  they  hoped,  and  more  intelli 
gent,  as  it  well  might  be  wider  and  mightier  than  the 
old. 

From  this  point,  therefore,  we  may  fitly  glance,  for 
a  single  moment,  over  what  may  be  justly  entitled  the 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         19 

Primitive  Era  of  New  England.  Assuredly,  in  no 
legitimate  sense,  can  this  be  accounted  a  restoration 
of  the  Saturnian  reign.  As  men  ordinarily  estimate 
happiness,  the  pilgrims  of  Plymouth,  especially,  were 
deficient  in  everything,  which  enters  into  the  vague 
and  illusory  computation  of  external  good.  There 
was  an  almost  total  absence  of  what  reality  furnished, 
or  imagination  supplies,  to  complete  the  alluring  pic 
ture  of  a  golden  age.  Not  only  the  softer  delights  of 
pastoral  loveliness,  but  those  grander  developments, 
which  at  least  dignify  nature  in  some  of  the  severest 
manifestations  of  her  infinite  moods,  were  equally 
wanting.  No  awful  and  cloud-crowned  mountain, 
luminous  with  perpetual  snows,  glittered  upon  their 
enchanted  vision, — no  meadows  spread  before  their 
eyes,  enamelled  with  amaranthine  flowers, — no  rivers, 
clearer  and  purer  than  the  bountiful  bosom  of  mater 
nal  earth  ordinarily  vouchsafes,  sparkled  between 
emerald  banks  and  over  golden  sands, — nor  could 
they  promise  themselves  to  wander  amidst  consecrated 
groves,  resonant  with  the  intermingled  harmonies  of 
every  airy  melody  and  loaded  with  the  lingering  odors 
of  a  myriad  fragrant  beds  of  spontaneous  bloom,  be 
neath.  But  they  saw  before  them  the  low  swell  of 
the  yellow  sand-heap,  and  the  dreariness  of  winter 
settling  down  in  browner  shadows  upon  the  more 
distant  hills — instead  of  the  lustrous  gleam,  that  rolls 
with  the  undercurrent  of  the  azure  river,  blending  its 


20         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

blue  with  gold,  only  the  new-formed  ice,  that  glittered 
upon  the  margin  of  every  standing  pool, — for  meads 
embroidered  with  luxuriant  flowers  of  every  softest 
tint  or  deeper  dye,  nothing  but  the  level  of  the  deso 
late  marsh,  stretching  far  away,  crested  only  with  its 
unsightly  patches  of  ragged  sedge, — and  for  the  lul 
ling  music  of  Arcadian  woods,  no  song  but  the  sol 
emn  requiem  of  long-departed  Summer,  breathed  by 
the  rising  winds,  in  no  gentle  tones,  to  the  responsive 
sighings  of  the  November  pines.  Scarcely  to  the  peal 
of  triumphal  hymns,  therefore,  but  surely  with  patient 
and  undaunted  hearts,  they  found  and  thus  chose 
their  home,  in  the  midst  of  a  dreary  wilderness,  which 
promised  absolutely  nothing  to  their  present  necessi 
ties,  but  what  the  sad  aspect  of  haggard  want  foretold, 
under  the  dispensation  and  infliction  of  real  suffering. 
And  yet,  in  the  presence  of  such  a  scene,  upon  the 
deck  of  their  frail  vessel,  at  her  moorings,  before  the 
first  footstep  had  consecrated  that '  Forefathers'  Rock,' 
to  be  forever  afterwards  the  very  altar-stone  amongst 
the  memorials  of  that  lonely  harbor, — looking  truth 
steadfastly  in  the  face,  and  with  a  wiser  forethought 
of  the  true  condition  of  man  than  theirs,  who  imagine 
a  primeval  society  of  natural,  unrestrained  and  there 
fore  impracticable  human  freedom, — they  drafted  and 
executed,  as  never  was  such  instrument  made  before, 
— that  brief  and  noble  declaration  of  principles,  look 
ing  to  the  future  formation  of  a  frame  of  civil  govern- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         21 

ment,  which  should  be  known  to  all  succeeding  times 
as  the  Constitution  of  the  Mayflower. 

But  though  they  thus  settled  upon  the  doctrine  of 
a  polity  worthy  of  the  sagest  men  of  state,  the  star  in 
the  "West,  which  they  had  seen,  signified  to  them  only 
security  from  religious  persecution.  No  mere  world 
ling  is  competent  to  the  just  estimation  of  characters 
quite  out  of  the  scope  of  his  vision,  whether  he  be 
known  under  the  title  of  philosopher  or  historian. 
They  cannot  be  judged,  according  to  the  ordinary 
rules  of  worldly  prudence,  for  the  only  prosperity 
they  sought  was  the  rest  of  their  souls.  As  literally 
as  Jacob  in  the  house  of  Egypt  and  the  presence  of 
Pharaoh,  they  counted  the  days  of  their  years  but  the 
progression  of  a  pilgrimage, — few  and  evil  in  the 
computation  of  their  sum,  and  each  in  succession  but 
bringing  them,  on  the  foot-road  of  a  toilsome  journey, 

— a  day's  march  nearer  home. 

Actuated  and  governed,  in  a  great  degree  by  the 
same  general  motives  and  principles,  yet  one  chief 
object  of  their  compatriots  of  Massachusetts  was  un 
doubtedly  to  build  a  state.  And,  as  that  chosen 
barque,  which  first  settled  down  with  her  precious- 
freighted  souls  upon  their  Ararat  of  Plymouth,  bore 
the  charming  name  of  the  freshest  flower,  which  peeps 
out  of  the  chilly  bosom  of  our  New  England  spring, 
so  the  flag-ship  of  that  little  squadron,  which  first 


22         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

cast  anchor  beneath  the  shadow  of  those  three  lonely 
hills,  looking  down  to-day  upon  the  commerce  of  a 
world,  must  be  forever  associated  with  one  of  the 
sweetest  of  her  sex,  a  lovelier  flower, — in  the  narrow 
judgment  of  earth  only  too  early  transplanted  to  the 
skies.  I  read  the  admirable  letter  of  those  adven 
turous  and  high-toned  men,  to  "  the  rest  of  their 
brethren  in  and  of  the  church  of  England,"  from  the 
cabin  of  the  Arbella,*  lying  in  Yarmouth  roads, — and 
regarding  that  Christian  resolution  coupled  with  hu 
mility  and  charity,  and  the  self-sacrificing  spirit  of 
those  "  persons  of  worth  and  quality,"  as  they  were 
then  styled,  who  came  with  "Winthrop  and  Saltonstall 
and  Johnson  and  Dudley  and  Vassall,  and  the  rest, — 
who,  on  the  eve  of  an  enterprise,  which,  to  have  en 
gaged  the  attention  of  such  men,  must  have  seemed 
to  them  great,  were  looking  forward  to  a  dwelling- 

*  I  so  write  the  name  of  this  vessel,  rather  than  "  Arabella,"  in 
deference  to  the  critical  judgment  of  Hon.  James  Savage,  the  learned 
editor  of  Winthrop's  History  of  New  England,  and  to  the  cotemporary 
evidence  of  its  correctness,  which  he  adduces  in  the  first  volume  of 
that  invaluable  work.  But  there  is  still  another  reason  for  this,  which 
some  may  think  even  more  conclusive.  Arbella,  it  seems,  was  the 
designation  of  a  certain  district  or  locality  of  Judea,  eastward  beyond 
Jordan,  and  considering  the  marked  preference  of  the  Puritans  for 
Scripture  names,  or  such  as  had  a  bearing  on  Scripture,  they  would 
have  been  very  likely  to  select  this,  for  that  reason  ;  especially,  since 
the  word,  Arabella,  might  involve  an  idea,  in  some  sense  offensive  to 
their  peculiar  notions.  Besides,  Arbella  is,  I  presume,  the  original 
word,  of  which  the  other  may  have  been  formed,  for  the  sake  of  eu 
phony,  or  by  corrupt  usage,  at  some  period,  either  earlier,  or  more 
probably  later  than  their  day. 


THREE  EEAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         23 

place  in  what  they  call  their  "  poore  cottages  in  the 
wildernesse," — and  who,  however  exalted  in  mind 
and  reproached  for  spiritual  pride,  declare  that  they 
"  are  not  of  those  that  clreame  of  perfection  in  this 
world," — and,  methinks,  in  their  case,  there  was,  in 
combination  with  their  religious  hopes,  the  impulse  of 
generous  motives  besides  and  a  manifestation  of  great 
and  noble  characteristics,  broader  if  not  higher,  than 
all  which  has  been  justly  claimed  for  those  pilgrims 
of  Plymouth,  whose  first  track,  like  a  new  star-beam 
over  the  waste  of  ocean,  bridged  it  forever  with  inex 
tinguishable  light.  And  this  Massachusetts,  which 
thus  they  made  their  own,  is  truly  the  mother  of  New 
England  ;  for  hers  were  all  its  colonies,  either  by  the 
natural  and  direct  relations  of  offspring  and  home,  or 
else,  in  one  particular  instance,  by  the  bestowal  of  her 
maternal  adoption  and  by  filial  submission  to  her 
control. 

There  are  a  great  many  false  notions  and  partial 
views  prevalent,  in  regard  to  the  character  and  condi 
tion  of  these  fathers  of  a  new  world.  One  would 
imagine,  that  any  philosophical  analysis  of  the  motives 
and  qualities,  which  must  have  laid  at  the  foundation 
of  such  an  enterprise,  would  have  freed  them  from 
many  misapprehensions  and  imputations,  to  which 
they  are  even  now  too  often  unjustly  exposed.  In 
regard  to  the  social  position  of  the  main  body  of  them, 
at  home,  in  a  mere  worldly  point  of  view,  I  am  no 


24         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.  ' 

more  anxious  than  they  were.  But  for  their  personal 
merits  and  accomplishments,  for  the  elements  of  their 
private  characters, — for  those  intellectual  and  moral 
traits,  by  which  they  were  wiser  and  better  than  the 
founders  of  any  other  commonwealth,  we  may  justly 
cherish  the  same  elevated  regard,  which  animates 
every  grateful  heart,  in  remembrance  of  its  participa 
tion  in  any  high  and  great  and  permanent  good. 
Upon  any  fair  and  just  view  of  their  purposes,  I  am 
not  willing  to  consider  those  men  fanatics,  who  sub 
mitted  to  every  personal  privation  for  the  sake  of  free 
dom  of  conscience,  and  for  this  great  end,  voluntarily 
separated  themselves,  by  an  ocean  rolling  between, 
from  all  those,  to  whom  their  conduct  could  give 
offence.  Nor  will  I  call  such  persons  bigots  who, 
having  encountered  and  endured  all  things,  to  secure 
a  liberty,  precious,  peculiar,  and  as  they  deemed  it 
without  controversy  essential  to  their  own  spiritual 
welfare, — would  not  permit  it  to  be  disturbed,  per 
verted,  or  wrested  away,  by  self-willed  intruders  of 
whatever  sect  or  degree,  to  whom  the  world  of  the 
wilderness  was  as  open  elsewhere,  as  it  had  been  to 
themselves.  The  liberty  of  conscience  which  they 
sought,  judging  of  it  only  for  such  spiritual  needs  as 
souls  like  theirs  would  crave,  was  liberty  for  their 
own  conscience  and  not  another  man's.  If  they  and 
their  associates,  who  still  remained  behind,  had  been 
made  of  that  stuff,  which  some  men  call  liberal,  be- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         25 

cause,  being  lukewarm  in  itself,  it  is  equally  uncon 
cerned  about  every  mode  of  faith, — then,  truly,  the 
church  would  have  been  troubled  with  no  worse  heresy 
than  vice,  the  authority  of  court  and  star-chamber  had 
been  kept  as  undisputed,  as  it  was  insufferable  and 
despotic, — Archbishop  Laud  had  never  stretched  forth 
his  hand  to  stay  the  interrupted  cmbarcation  of  that 
one  company  of  nonconformists,  above  all  others,  to 
the  thunder  of  whose  squadrons  all  Europe  so  soon 
listened,  as,  beneath  the  hoofs  of  their  horses,  hierar 
chy  and  crown  were  trampled  into  the  dust, — no  dis 
ciplinary  axe  had  turned  its  sharpened  edge  against 
that  "gray  discrowned  head," — there  would  have  been 
no  approximation  made  to  a  settlement  of  the  wise 
and  just  principles  of  religious  liberty,  and  no  impulse 
afforded  to  the  spirit  of  civil  freedom  throughout  the 
world. 

The  English  moral  poet  somewhat  impertinently 
declares — 

Most  women  have  no  characters  at  all ! 

Lf  he  had  pronounced  a  similar  judgment  upon  a 
majority  of  the  other  sex,  it  would  have  been  almost 
equally  just.  But  those,  of  whom  I  have  been  speak 
ing,  had  character, — individual,  strongly-marked,  pe 
culiar, — resulting  from  reflection  moulded  in  suffer 
ing,  and  heightened,  if  it  could  not  be  perfected,  by 
religious  experience.  I  consider  these  men  great, 
therefore,  who  were  directly  or  indirectly  concerned 
3 


26         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

in  the  most  momentous  revolution  of  opinions,  which 
has  affected,  or  is  likely  to  affect  modern  history  ^ 
great  in  their  simplicity,  in  their  integrity,  in  their 
sacrifices  and  their  struggles,  and,  above  all,  in  that 
unimpeachable  sincerity  of  character,  which  is  the 
true  secret  of  their  greatness,  as  it  is  the  earnest  of 
every  other  virtue.  Whatever  might  have  been  their 
particular  grade  in  the  social  circle,  the  men,  who  were 
the  instruments  in  such  undertakings,  were  not  of  the 
ordinary  stamp.  Education  they  certainly  had,  in  all 
that  the  schools  of  Europe  then  could  teach,  more  or 
less  generally  diffused  amongst  them,  and  no  true  son 
of  New  England  can  fail  to  honor  them,  for  the  value 
which  they  so  early  and  constantly  manifested  for  its 
advantages  and  its  transmission.  Plain  as  they  may 
seem  to  a  superficial  view,  there  was  anything  in 
their  company  but  a  deficiency  of  the  graces  of  refine 
ment  and  cultivation,  and  assuredly  many  of  their 
leaders  were  distinguished  by  the  profoundest  learning 
of  the  times  and  the  noblest  intellectual  endowments. 
Some  of  them,  certainly,  were  persons  of  liberal  for 
tune  and  of  public  and  private  eminence, — others  had 
left  all  their  fortunes  and  every  worldly  expectation 
behind  them.  There  were  few  or  none  of  them  either 
of  that  highest  class,  too  much  absorbed  in  mere  fri 
volities,  or  inextricably  involved  in  affairs  of  state,  or 
bound  to  the  soil  by  hereditary  ties  and  duties,  inca 
pable  of  release, — and  they  were  far  above  that  lowest 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         27 

order,  which  is  generally  beneath  the  operation  of  ex 
alted  impulses  and  noble  motives.  But  the  friends  of 
Bradford  and  Brewster  and  Standish  and  Vane  and 
Winthrop  and  others,  who  came,  and  of  Brook,  of 
Say  and  Sole,  of  Pelham,  and  Hampden  and  Pym 
and  Haslerig  and  Cromwell,  who  were  kept  at  home 
for  the  completion  of  other  great  cotcmporaneous  un 
dertakings,  measured  by  the  standard  of  any  just 
comparison,  were  anything  but  mean  men. 

We  shall  find  few  historic  names  in  their  records. 
They  were  of  Saxon,  not  of  Norman  origin.  But 
they  were  in  general  of  that  sturdy,  middle  class, 
between  the  high  and  the  low,  —  husbandmen  or 
rural  proprietors,  without  whose  manly  characteristics 
and  substantial  nerve  and  muscle,  there  could  have 
been  no  historic  names,  nor  any  of  that  history  which 
dignifies  a  nation.  They  had  as  good  soldiers  in 
their  company  as  divines,  and  laymen  of  various  pur 
suits  and  occupations.  They  cannot  be  called  men 
of  peace,  for  that  motto  of  Massachusetts,  which  Syd 
ney  originally  inscribed  at  one  of  the  passes  of  the 
Alps,  shows  that  they  understood  the  uses  and  neces 
sities  of  war  ;  and, .indeed,  their  whole  colonial  exist 
ence  was  little  else  than  one  long  warfare,  for  a 
period  of  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  years.  Men 
of  their  stamp  and  degree,  such  as  subsequently 
furnished  the  soldiers  that  Cromwell  trained  to  vic 
tory,  the  countrymen  and  ancestors  of  the  first  set- 


28         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

tiers  of  New  England,  must  have  been  found  always, 
wherever  the  arms  of  England  had  acquired  their  old 
renown  ;  of  that  order  which  so  often,  in  the  language 
of  a  cotemporary  historian,  "  had  made  all  France 
afraid," — few  in  numbers,  but  invincible  in  courage 
— on  the  famous  fields  of  hard-won  battle,  where 
their  warrior-kings  would  have  no  more  men  to 
divide  the  honors  of  the  day  — 

When  Valois  braved  young  Edward's  gentle  hand, 
And  Albert  rushed  on  Henry's  way-worn  band, 
With  Europe's  chosen  sons,  in  arms  renowned, 
Yet  not  on  Vere's  bold  archers  long  they  looked, 
Nor  Audley's  squires,  nor  Mowbray's  yeomen  brooked, 
They  saw  their  standard  fall  and  left  their  monarch  bound. 

I  endeavor  to  imagine  the  condition  of  the  colony, 
a  few  years  after  the  first  sharp  pinch  of  their  almost 
desperate  necessities  was  past.  They  were  still,  as 
they  long  continued  to  be,  only  a  garrison  in  the 
wilderness.  Up  to  the  period  of  1640,  it  may  be 
safely  computed,  that  the  entire  population  of  New 
England,  capable  of  bearing  arms,  did  not  vary  much 
from  the  tale  of  five  thousand  souls.  And  history, 
surely,  oifers  no  parallel  to  the  fact  of  such  an  adven 
turous  foothold,  so  marvellously  gained  and  kept  in 
the  very  face  of  a  numerous  savage  people,  whose 
tendencies,  at  least,  were  hostile,  whose  friendship 
was  uncertain,  whose  treaties  could  only  be  reckoned 
each  a  hollow  truce,  whose  very  nature  called  for  the 


THEEE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         29 

domination  of  fear,  who  could  scarcely  have  discerned 
the  not  very  obvious  advantages  to  themselves  of  yield 
ing  to  the  influence  of  conciliatory  appeals,  and  who 
possessed  the  physical  power  to  overwhelm  their  scat 
tered  handful  of  neighbors,  to  the  human  eye  so  appa 
rently  feeble,  at  any  chosen  moment.  But  the  esti 
mate,  put  upon  them,  by  the  early  settlers  of. New 
England,  seems  to  have  been  made  up  of  a  mingled 
sentiment  of  compassion  for  their  heathenish  igno 
rance,  contempt  for  their  divided  and  broken  strength, 
and  a  guarded  dread  of  their  treacherous  and  lurking 
instincts.  But  indeed  these  men  were  valiant,  strong 
and  of  good  courage.  And  taking  into  consideration 
their  true  condition,  their  insignificant  numbers,  their 
inadequate  means  of  defence,  and  that  long  siege  of 
unexampled  perils,  through  many  weary,  painful, 
watchful  years,  I  count  them  brave  with  a  more  than 
mortal  valor.  They  were  frugal, — for,  descended  of  a 
nation  very  far  from  opulent,  and  in  which  the  means 
and  sources  of  its  subsequent  wealth  had  only  just 
begun  to  be  developed, — and  of  a  class,  amongst  which 
necessity  had  long  taught  and  systematized  the  prac 
tice  of  a  severe  frugality, — upon  them  this  rugged 
virtue  imposed  a  still  harder  hand, — for,  besides  that 
sweat  of  the  brow,  which  the  primal  curse,  now  almost 
converted  into  a  blessing,  entails,  the  very  cultivation 
of  their  fields  was  often  like  the  crimson  harvest  of 
arms.  The  seed  of  peace,  which  they  had  planted  in 
3* 


30         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

trembling  hope,  was  gathered  in  like  a  forage ;  and  fre 
quently  they  ate  the  scanty  bread,  thus  wrung  from  an 
ungenial  soil,  sown,  as  it  were,  with  armed  men,  at  the 
imminent  hazard  of  their  lives.  Wise  they  were,  for 
clearly  recognizing  the  spiritual  elevation  of  mankind, 
as  the  only  legitimate  object  of  human  discipline,  they 
first  sought  the  means  for  the  advancement  of  what 
ever  is  to  remain  to  the  intellectual  and  moral  being, 
when  human  discipline  is  at  an  end, — and  looking 
far  into  the  future,  they  endeavored  thus  to  establish, 
upon  broad  and  immoveable  foundations,  the  substan 
tial  happiness  of  a  long-coming  posterity.  I  venture 
not  to  enlarge  upon  their  piety, — if  they  were  not 
pious,  no  men  and  women  ever  were  ! 

I  see  that  simple  structure  for  religious  meeting, — 
spireless,  and,  I  doubt  not,  comfortless  enough  to  the 
outward  man, — to  which  as  external,  and  therefore 
not  vital,- — in  entire  consistency  with  their  views  of 
those  corruptions  of  the  establishment,  which  had 
made  the  term,  so  applied,  odious  in  their  cars,  they 
refused  the  name  of  "church."  I  presume,  in  corre 
spondence  with  a  not  uncommon  fashion  of  their  rural 
descendants,  it  was  frequently  "  set  upon  a  hill," — 
not  merely  that  they  might  fulfil,  in  a  strictly  literal 
sense,  the  beautiful  figure  of  Scripture,  but  in  order 
that  the  sentinel  at  the  door  might  command  ample 
survey  of  the  surrounding  country,  while  his  armed 
neighbors  were  devoutly  worshipping  within.  I  see  a 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         31 

military  captain  of  very  tender  conscience,  resolutely 
cutting  the  cross  from  the  "meteor  flag  of  England," 
because  he  could  not  endure  to  march  under  such  a 
relic  of  antichrist, — and  the  magistrates,  tenderly  con 
sidering  his  motive,  while  they  rebuked  the  offence 
itself,  since  their  consciences  happily  were  a  little 
more  enlightened.  I  remark,  in  illustration  of  their 
primitive  ways  and  condition,  that  the  first  Governor 
of  Plymouth  Colony  was  taken  with  his  fatal  illness, 
while  he  was  laboring  with  the  rest  of  the  settlers  in 
the  field ;  and  that,  during  the  first  hard  winter,  their 
hearts  sank  at  the  discouraging  tidings,  that  this  head 
of  the  state  had  the  last  batch  of  bread  in  the  oven, — 
and  that  the  first  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  seeing 
that  the  people  of  Ipswich  were  destitute  of  a  minister, 
travelled  to  that  village  from  Boston  on  foot,  spent 
the  Sabbath  with  them,  and  "  exercised  by  way  of 
prophecy."  I  read  with  pleasure,  that,  some  years 
afterwards,  when  the  latter  dignitary,  as  deputy-gov 
ernor,  was  exposed  to  certain  injurious  charges,  he 
descended  from  his  chair  of  magistracy,  which  was  a 
literal,  not  a  figurative  upper  seat,  against  all  remon 
strance, — and  though  "  many  of  the  court  and  assem 
bly,"  we  are  told,  "  were  grieved  about  his  being  in 
that  place,"  put  himself  at  the  bar  of  the  accused, — 
and  upon  his  triumphant  acquittal,  delivered  a  speech 
seldom,  if  ever,  surpassed,  for  its  manly  eloquence,  its 
dignified  humility, — its  just,  liberal,  simple  and  yet 


32         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

statesmanlike  views  of  the  great  and  still  misunder 
stood  relations  of  human  society.  I  contrast  the  too 
common  impression,  of  the  harsh  lineaments  of  these 
severe  Puritans,  with  their  profound  and  affectionate 
lamentation  over  the  death  of  a  noble  lady  of  their 
company,  who,  in  their  own  language,  had  come 
"  from  a  paradise  of  plenty  into  a  wilderness  of  wants." 
And  I  see  these  men,  too  often  reputed  only  cold,  sec 
tarian,  narrow  bigots, — sour  in  external  demeanor, 
and  inwardly  almost  divested  of  every  human  affec 
tion, — upon  the  arrival  of  the  wife  of  their  chief  mag 
istrate,  in  the  midst  of  many  distresses,  gallantly  as 
sembling  to  "  entertain  her  with  a  guard  and  divers 
vollies," — and  magistrates  and  people  bringing  to 
gether  such  great  store  of  bodily  comforts,  to  attest 
their  welcome,  "  so  as  the  like  joy  and  manifestation 
of  love  had  never  been  seen  in  New  England." 

It  has  been  the  general  policy  of  warfare  and  of 
diplomatic  negotiations,  to  set  those  forces  at  variance 
with  each  other,  whereof  the  combined  relations 
might  be  deemed  of  probable  disadvantage  to  the  ne 
gotiating  party.  But,  so  far  as  I  know,  it  was  re 
served  for  these  just  men,  fearing  God  and  knowing 
no  other  fear,  to  manifest  the  highest  principles  of 
equity,  by  mediating  for  the  pacification  of  savage 
tribes,  hostile  to  themselves  and  hostile  to  each  other, 
and  whose  passions,  by  the  superior  artifices  of  civiliza 
tion,  might  have  been  easily  wrought  upon,  for  the 


THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.         33 

benefit  of  the  colonists  and  their  own  extermination. 
When  no  efforts  at  conciliation  were  found  to  be  of 
any  avail,  I  observe  their  resolute  execution  of  their 
necessary  purposes  towards  an  inveterate  foe.  And, 
in  illustration  of  this  element  of  their  character,  I 
should  be  glad  to  linger  a  moment,  if  it  were  possi 
ble,  over  that  most  romantic  and  touching  episode  of 
their  history,  which  an  illustrious  countryman  of  our 
own — too  illustrious  in  the  literature  of  the  world,  to 
permit  you  to  claim  for  him  anything  more  than  the 
honor  of  his  birth,  has  made  forever  immortal,  in  his 
beautiful  memorial  of  Philip  of  Mount  Hope. 

I  run  through  the  stormy  current  of  our  colonial 
history, — the  narrative  of  their  conflicts  and  apprehen 
sions  of  conflicts  with  domestic  and  foreign  enemies — 
the  Indian,  so  often  made  to  yield  and  the  Spaniard, 
whom  they,  at  one  time,  dreaded, — of  very  head 
strong  and  wilful-minded  Dutchmen,  whom  they  sub 
dued  by  themselves,  and  querulous,  reluctant  French 
men,  whom  they  reduced  to  subjection  in  their  strong 
holds,  or  aided  their  countrymen  from  home  to  van 
quish,  upon  their  most  inaccessible  and  formidable 
heights.  I  read  of  their  truly  independent  political 
condition,  prudently  and  sometimes  with  difficulty 
upheld,  against  the  influence  and  evil  speech  of  zeal 
ous  foes  at  home,  as  they  lovingly  called  the  mother 
land, — and  the  jealous  care,  though  more  frequently 
he  generous  countenance,  if  not  encouragement  and 


34         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

support,  of  its  own  distracted  state  and  varying  gov 
ernment  ;  and  of  that  long  interval,  when  the  despe 
rate  struggles  of  England  happily  left  them  to  the 
maturer  development  of  their  own  resources.  I  im 
agine  their  steadily  advancing  strength  and  stability. 
I  see  the  huts,  in  which  they  first  sought  refuge,  grad 
ually  yet  rapidly  exchanged  for  those  quaint  gable- 
roofed  and  oddly-projecting  dwellings,  of  which  relics 
yet  exist,  going  back  to  a  very  early  period,  in  some 
of  our  older  towns, — exhibiting  no  very  accurate  co 
incidence  with  the  models  of  classic  architecture,  but 
which  really  seem  to  me  far  more  picturesque,  than 
the  blank  aspect  of  many  modern  edifices.  They 
break  through  the  forest,  by  a  thousand  difficult  and 
dangerous  paths, — the  garrison-house  becomes  only 
the  occasional  place  of  refuge,  instead  of  the  necessity 
of  nightly  resort, — the  close  stockade  gives  place  to 
the  open  street  of  the  long,  straggling  village,  or  to 
the  remoter  settlement,  or  the  lonely  and  still  peril 
ous  farm-house, — and  the  buif-coat,  thick  enough  and 
tough  enough  to  turn  away  any  ball,  which  any  pow 
der  of  that  day  could  have  had  force  enough  to  pro 
pel,  and  which,  as  I  have  actually  set  eyes  upon  it, 
must  have  completely  enveloped  the  person  of  the 
redoubted  warrior,  whom  it  protected  in  his  Indian 
conflicts,  eventually  yields  to  less  voluminous  habili 
ments. 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         35 

I  see  them  wise,  therefore,  and  brave  and  frugal 
and  just  and  pious,  with  the  characteristic  attributes 
of  heroes  and  statesmen  and,  if  you  please,  of  Chris 
tian  martyrs  themselves, — and,  for  the  sake  of  these 
fundamental  virtues  of  humanity  and  distinguishing 
elements  of  greatness,  I  am  willing  to  overlook  very 
much,  which,  in  their  day  and  our  own,  has  been  too 
readily  charged  against  them, — the  banishment  of  a 
quaker  or  two,  now  and  then,  who  innocently  persist 
ed  in  abiding  under  a  jurisdiction,  which,  in  accord 
ance  ,with  what  their  judgment  deemed  essential  to 
their  own  civil  and  religious  peace,  could  not  coun 
tenance  and  deliberately  repulsed  him ;  and  who  only 
persisted  in  returning,  over  and  over  again,  to  bear 
his  somewhat  officious  and  foolhardy  testimony  against 
those,  who  had  solemnly  forbidden  him  to  come,  on 
pain  of  death, — or  other  errors  of  the  times,  in  falling, 
into  delusions,  which  I  confess  seem  to  me  quite  ex 
cusable,  under  the  circumstances,  in  comparison  with 
some,  which  people  of  reputed  intelligence  subject 
themselves  to,  in  our  own  enlightened  day, — or,  the 
close-cut  hair,  the  short  cloak,  (so  lately  revived)  the 
Geneva  band,  the  formal  ruff  and  beard,  and  the 
heavy-hilted,  perhaps  rusty,  but  undoubtedly  service 
able  rapier  of  the  one  sex ;  and,  of  the  other,  the  prim 
cap,  the  dress,  more  completely  if  not  more  gracefully 
than  now  adapted  to  the  form,  the  unadorned  loveli 
ness,  and  the  show  of  only  just  so  much  lace  and 


36         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

trinketry,  as  the  dames  or  damsels  of  the  day  could 
persuade,  I  fear  only  too  successfully,  some  of  the 
more  tender-hearted  amongst  the  worthy  magistrates, 
to  permit  them  to  display. 

And,  upon  any  just  judgment  of  the  ordinary  prog 
ress  of  human  affairs,  for  what  speculative  failure  they 
can  be  properly  accounted  responsible,  I  do  not  know, 
— these  founders  of  a  Puritan  Commonwealth,  whose 
system  was  necessarily  modified  by  advancing  time  and 
opinions, — who  tints  took  possession  of  so  considerable 
a  region  of  an  uncivilized  hemisphere,  and  so  main 
tained  themselves,  under  all  sufferings  and  against  all 
conflicts  and  discouragements, — who  established  prin 
ciples  of  civil  government  still  subsisting  in  their 
original  force,  and  chiefly  by  their  means  diffused 
over  a  nation  of  free  institutions, — who  developed  a 
religious  character,  yet  venerated  by  a  vast  majority 
of  their  descendants,  and,  in  spite  of  declensions,  to 
which  their  own,  like  every  other  community,  must 
have  been  subject,  still  seriously  affecting  the  minds 
and  conduct  of  their  posterity, — and  who  entered  into 
a  civil  compact,  of  mutual  defence  and  offence,  of 
such  binding  virtue  and  obligation  amongst  them 
selves,  that  the  distinctive  features  of  the  alliance, 
though  not  formally  acknowledged  now,  and  though 
practically  superseded  by  State  and  National  Consti 
tutions,  yet,  in  no  merely  theoretical  sense,  remains, 
— making  that  population,  so  feeble  only  a  little  more 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         37 

than  two  centuries  ago  and  now  reckoned  by  mil 
lions,  still  a  peculiar  people  within  the  bounds  of  its 
own  territory,  remarkably  concordant  in  opinion  on 
topics  of  public  interest  or  importance,  whether  right 
or  wrong ;  and  making  the  children,  who  go  out  from 
it,  to  whatever  other  state  or  distant  country,  to  retain, 
in  a  singular  degree,  and  after  the  lapse  of  many  years, 
the  habits  and  thoughts,  the  feelings  and  affections  of 
New  England.  So  that,  under  this  venerated  name, 
she  holds  her  reputation,  which,  more  than  upon  any 
present  intelligence,  enterprise,  prosperity  or  power, 
rests  upon  the  character  of  the  ancestors  of  her  peo 
ple,  resulting  from  their  solid  virtues  and  substantial 
wisdom ;  but  a  reputation,  which  must  be  necessarily 
forfeited,  as  these  ennobling  elements  decline. 

It  has  been  so  much  a  labor  of  love  with  me,  to 
contemplate  at  some  length  this  primitive  era,  that  I 
find  it  necessary,  at  this  point,  to  change  the  title  of 
my  Lecture,  and  passing  completely  over  one  period, 
— though  less  necessary,  as  being  more  familiar, — 
which  I  had  intended  to  consider,  for  a  while,  under 
the  character  of  the  heroic,  to  proceed  at  once  to  the 
third,  which  I  shall  denominate  the  practical,  though 
many  are  fond  of  calling  it  the  intellectual  era  of  New 
England. 

We  launch,  then,  upon  a  wider  and  deeper  sea, — 
and,  pondering  boldly,  let  us  ask  what  there  is  valua 
ble  of  the  past,  since  such  was  the  past,  which  this 
4 


38         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

broad,  grasping  and  insatiable  present  profitably  re 
tains.  For  I  suppose,  that  even  the  most  enthusiastic 
disciple  of  progress,  who  thinks  at  all,  does  not 
imagine  that  man, — the  human  being,  who  has  ful 
filled  his  generations  upon  earth,  now  for  six  thou 
sand  years,  imprisoned  for  life  in  this  single  planet, 
and  possessed  only  of  certain  definite  capacities,  is 
absolutely  to  drop,  like  a  serpent  his  slough,  all  the 
experience  of  his  race,  together  with  their  hereditary 
and  constitutional  characteristics,  and  to  walk  forth, 
regenerated  and  disenthralled,  towards  some  unknown 
and  indeterminate  point,  upon  the  desolate  ocean  of 
adventurous  discovery. 

What  we  have  been  considering  hitherto  was  un 
doubtedly  definite, — the  qualities  sound  and  positive, 
the  virtues  substantial  and  actual.  The  persons  con 
templated  were  men  and  women,  committing  errors 
unquestionably,  but  still  their  characters  were  true, 
and  they  themselves  meaning  something  real,  and 
working  consistently  to  that  end.  If  they  were  over- 
formal  in  their  manners,  this  slight  discrepancy  with 
a  more  modern  recklessness  of  demeanor  resulted 
from  a  deep  sense  of  personal  responsibility,  control 
ling  and  attempering  outward  demonstration, — and,  if 
precise  in  opinions,  and  their  consequent  mode  of  ex 
pressing  them,  it  was  because,  turning  neither  to  the 
right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  they  earnestly  sought  to  see 
(dearly  and  so  to  speak  of  the  nature  and  obligation 


THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.         39 

of  the  highest  conceivable  duties.  And  if  they  were 
in  truth  good  and  great,  it  was  because,  endeavoring 
to  leave  behind  them,  so  far  as  it  was  possible,  in  a 
world,  the  public  and  private  duties  of  which  they 
never  neglected  or  disdained,  the  beggarly  elements- 
of  mere  worldly  ways,  they  did  actually  and  personally 
strive  for  a  superior  virtue  and  a  superior  intelligence.. 
And  since  a  combination  of  these  two  must  form  the- 
supreme  rational  object  of  human  existence,  and,  thus 
sought,  explains  their  remarkable  traits  and  the  accom 
plishment  of  those  aims,  which  were  the  wonder  of 
their  own  day,  as  they  will  be  the  growing  admiration 
of  all  future  time,  it  would  seem,  that  any  observable 
deterioration,  on  our  part,  must  imply  a  failure  to  fol 
low  in  the  same  steadfast  pursuit  of  substantial  good. 
For  this  grand  and  universal  object  of  every  intelli 
gent  human  soul,  which  a  thousand  philosophers, 
groping  blindly  throughout  the  universe,  and  count 
less  generations  of  men  have  equally  failed  to  discover, 
they  sought  only,  where  only  it  could  be  found,  in  the 
inmost  depths  of  their  own  spiritual  being. 

So  far,  then,  as  analogy  avails,  I  should  hesitate  to- 
look  into  a  state  of  society,  which  calls  itself  practi 
cal,  for  the  most  extraordinary  developments  of  char 
acter  and  the  highest  manifestations  of  intellectual 
power.  And  yet  we  know  that  all  sinks,  or  has  sunkr 
where  these  are  absent.  The  level  surface  is  in  real 
ity  stagnant.  There  must  be  something  high  in 


40         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

thought  and  action,  or  all  things  will  be  equally  low. 
Men  are  either  aiming  for  great  things,  or  they  are 
content  with  small.  Society  either  advances,  or  it 
recedes.  It  will  not  do  for  it  to  settle  down  upon 
mere  absolute  realities,  so  called — repressing  all  the 
human  host  of  spontaneous  and  perhaps  unintelligible 
desires,  which  are  still  so  suggestive  of  nobler  and 
purer,  if  as  yet  unsatisfied  sympathies.  For,  to  do  so, 
let  me  remark,  is  materialism — and  materialism, 
tricked  out  in  whatever  external  decorations  or  mere 
intellectual  refinements,  is  but  a  turn  of  the  corner 
to  barbarity  itself.  And  however  decent  even  such  a 
world  may  outwardly  appear,  within  it  is  full  of  dead 
men's  bones  and  all  imclcanness.  It  would  be  like 
the  loathsome  creatures  of  the  earth  crawling  amidst 
violets, — delicacy,  and  fragrance  and  loveliness  and 
bluest  bloom  above, — beneath,  poison,  distortion,  and 
disgust. 

I  am  perfectly  willing  to  yield  to  the  spirit  of  the 
times  every  vain  or  seemingly  unprofitable  illusion, — 
if  I  can  only  be  informed  by  some  clearer-minded 
realist,  than  it  has  yet  been  my  fortune  to  meet,  what 
are  the  illusions  and  what  the  realities  of  this  mortal 
state.  I  know  that  those  of  its  things  which  are  ordi 
narily  accounted  civilization,— its  palaces  and  temples 
and  freighted  ships  and  warehouses  opulent  with  the 
riches  of  nations,  and  its  clasps  of  communicable  iron, 
interlacing  and  girdling  an  empire,  and  even  its  intel- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         41 

lectual  speculations  into  the  abyss  of  the  unknown,— 
may  be  only  deceptive  indications,  and  not  its  un 
doubted  proofs.  I  know  that  civilization  does  consist 
of  liberty  and  order,  and  harmonious  thought  and 
feeling,  and  refinement  and  virtue, — and  that  the  per 
fection  of  these  excellencies  demands  the  cultivation 
of  all  the  immortal  capacities  of  the  mind  and  heart, 
— and  that,  for  want  of  our  means,  in  this  behalf,  no 
nation  of  the  heathen  world  ever  did  or  ever  could 
reach,  or  even  imagine,  that  standard  of  general  ele 
vation,  set  forth  for  the  example  and  attainment  of  a 
Christian  age.  I  know,  moreover, — because  reason 
and  observation  and  experience  cooperate  to  teach  the 
salutary  lesson, — that  these  characteristics  of  a  people 
are  no  more  developed  and  sustained  by  the  keenest 
faculties,  ever  sharpened  in  the  collisions  of  the  mar 
ket  or  the  contests  of  the  forum,  than  by  the  number 
less  and  nameless  graces,  which  owe  their  birth  to  our 
imaginative  perceptions, — by  the  infinite  and  vague 
emotions  of  the  spirit  within  us,  impressing  upon  the 
forms  of  things,  as  well  as  it  is  able,  the  pictured 
image  of  its  own  unsatisfied  longings, — or  by  the  soli 
tary  contemplations  of  the  student  of  nature  and  of 
art,  moulding  the  means  and  ends  of  life  into  the 
shapely  proportions  of  a  model,  quite  beyond  the 
reach,  it  may  be,  of  that  practical  conception, — around 
whose  knotted  hardness  they  yet  verdantly  and  benev- 
4* 


42         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

olently  entwine  all  life  itself  can  know  of  grace  and 
blessing  and  joy. 

But  the  age  of  reality  should,  at  least,  be  the  age 
of  certainty.  And,  as  a  lover  of  truth  and  a  lover  of 
my  country,  I  should  be  glad  to  learn,  if  possible,  in 
the  investigation  of  this  subject,  what  reasonable 
prospect  there  is  in  the  future,  for  certain  improve 
ment  in  law,  and  order  and  government,  and  mind 
and  morals, — in  social  opinion  and  social  virtue,  and 
whatever  else  may  be  the  fundamental  elements  of 
happiness  and  prosperity, — under  a  condition  of  things, 
which  I  think  the  general  judgment  would  pronounce 
more  unsettled  than  ever  before.  We  do  not  need  to 
go  to  the  lessons  of  philosophy  in  order  to  ascertain, 
that  intellectual  pride  and  conceit  and  self-sufficiency 
are  neither  the  sources,  the  means,  nor  the  evidences 
of  knowledge  ;  and  that  presumption  is  a  mark  of 
weakness,  tending  to  deterioration,  and  not  of  strength, 
giving  promise  of  future  good.  It  is  an  unfavorable 
state  of  society,  which  prides  itself  on  being  better 
than  the  past, — for  then  it  is  likely  to  be  contented 
with  inferiority,  and,  having  no  motive  for  improve 
ment,  it  actually  recedes.  That  individual  man  can 
not  and  will  not  learn,  who  believes  himself  already 
quite  above  the  mark  of  whatever  has  been  attained 
by  others  in  ages  before.  To  him,  the  pursuits  of 
those,  who  yet  anchor  themselves  upon  established 
truth,  may  seem  little  better  than  superfluous.  And 


THREE  EEAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         43 

yet  he  may  find  that  the  probability  of  his  own  supe 
rior  progress  is  an  important  question,  not  yet,  per 
haps,  so  conclusively  settled. 

It  does  not  follow,  that  society  is  in  a  more  healthy 
condition,  because  a  certain  amount  of  general  prac 
tical  information,  of  greater  or  less  tenuity,  is  diffused 
over  the  surface  of  the  community.  There  still  may 
be  dreary  barrens  and  dismal  depths,  in  the  one  as 
pect,  and,  in  the  other,  no  mountain  of  refuge,  or  any 
projecting  cliff,  to  which  we  can  fly  for  safety  in  the 
storm.  The  return  to  practical  materialism  is  much 
more  easy  than  many  imagine.  And,  if  we,  looking 
only  towards  the  future,  reject  that  wisdom  of  the 
Past,  which  in  morals  and  the  science  of  the  mind,  at 
least,  is  the  true  basis  of  knowledge,  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say,  that  our  descendants,  growing  gradually 
shallower  and  more  shallow,  may  find  themselves,  at 
length,  slumbering  in  the  twilight  of  an  age,  than 
which  no  other  has  been  more  dark.  And  all  our 
exterior  splendors  would  no  more  indicate  refinement, 
or  secure  freedom,  than  the  magnificent  ecclesiastical 
edifices  of  former  times, — than  the  palaces  of  op 
pressed  Italy,  than  the  cathedrals  of  degraded  and 
distracted  Spain. 

But,  in  fact,  we  do  not,  each  and  all,  know  by  trans 
mission,  whatever  has  been  learned  and  known  before. 
This  is  not  a  present  convertible  possession  of  the  world, 
upon  which  we  can  count,  as  an  inheritance,  to  be  the 


44         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

readily-employed  stepping-stone  to  future  acquisitions. 
The  ordinary  physical  improvements  in  the  usages  of 
life  can  be  reduced,  indeed,  to  common  practice  and 
diffused, — so  that  much,  which  tends  ta  our  external 
comfort,  and  was  altogether  beyond  the  possible 
imagination  of  ruder  times,  becomes  the  general 
property  and  contributes  to  the  universal  welfare, — 
although  nothing  could  be  easier,  than  to  show  an 
almost  total  ignorance  of,  and  indifference  to,  the  most 
manifest  improvements,  even  of  this  description,  within 
the  circle  of  our  own  ordinary  observation.  But  the 
triumphs  of  intellect  and  the  attainments  of  virtue 
are  reached  only  by  a  very  different  process.  For 
these  are  severally  to  be  gained  by  every  individual 
man,  in  his  own  generation,  or  not  at  all.  In  these 
there  is  no  common  stock.  His  training  in  these 
respects  must  be  as  much  his  own,  as  if  nothing  had 
been  accomplished,  in  all  past  time  ; — and,  for  all  that 
lias  gone  by,  there  are  tens  of  thousands  in  the  streets 
and  hovels  of  this  city,  to-night,  who  are  neither  wiser 
nor  better,  than  the  least-considered  of  their  prede 
cessors,  a  thousand  years  ago.  I  am  110  better,  indi 
vidually,  for  the  moral  precepts  of  every  age  of  the 
world, — no  wiser  for  its  learning,  its  science  and  its 
literature,  unless  their  truths  and  excellencies  and 
results  have  each  been  sought  out  and  applied  by  me, 
individually,  for  myself.  And,  although  science,  cer 
tainly,  as  being  concerned  more  directly  with  the  out- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         45 

ward  necessities  of  our  nature,  has  crowned  its 
eminent  explorers  with  their  fame  and  their  reward, 
yet  too  much  neglect  of  the  obviously  intelligible  doc 
trine  I  have  suggested  may  account  for  other  deficien 
cies,  which  have  been  thought  to  denote  the  declining, 
rather  than  the  essentially  progressive  character  of 
the  age. 

The  popular  theory,  in  one  class  of  modern  society, 
unquestionably  is,  that  man,  under  the  action  of  cer 
tain  mysterious  influences,  as  yet  only  imperfectly 
developed,  and  how  to  be  developed  even,  does  not  yet 
appear,  is  eventually  to  become  something  in  the  scale 
of  intelligent  being,  which  he  never  yet  has  been.  I 
do  not  know  to  what  definite  extent  this  idea  has 
been  carried,  or  what  accurate  notion  has  been  formed 
of  this  physical  phase  of  progress.  So  far  as  I  do 
know,  the  algebraic  formula  as  yet  exhibits  only  an 
unknown  quantity.  But  it  has  been  quite  sufficient, 
certainly,  to  disturb  and  unsettle,  to  no  inconsiderable 
extent,  the  surface  of  the  mind  of  New  England, — so 
that  vague  speculation,  upon  important  subjects,  if 
nothing  worse,  has  either  eradicated,  or  essentially 
modified,  ancient  well-defined  convictions,  by  which 
its  population  was  formerly  marked,  and  which  un 
doubtedly  made  one  chief  element  of  its  real  or  pre 
sumed  superiority. 

For  my  own  part,  entertaining  great  diffidence  in 
regard  to  the  perfectibility  of  human  nature,  if  any- 


46         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

thing  seems  apparent  to  my  mind,  it  is,  that  this 
object,  if  attainable,  is  to  be  reached  only  by  certain 
legitimate  means, — the  leading  principles  of  which 
are  no  more  clearly  understood,  in  the  light  of  to-day, 
than  when  the  grand  system  of  man,  as  he  is  and  is 
to  be,  was  proclaimed  and  unfolded,  long  ages  ago. 
To  the  moral  being,  the  moral  law  was  just  as  essen 
tial  then,  as  it  is  now,  and  just  as  applicable  in  all  its 
general  relations.  Progressive,  or  otherwise,  no  en 
tangling  speculations  raise  him  one  tittle  above  his 
encompassing  responsibilities  to  the  lord  of  life  and 
master  of  creation,  or  aid  him  to  build  any  enduring 
kingdom  upon  what  he  seems  now  resolved  to  call  the 
realities  of  this  world.  Even  in  the  physical  constitu 
tion  of  nature,  he  must  continue  to  find  many  things 
too  high  for  him,  and  altogether  beyond  the  limited 
capacity  of  his  power.  Some  things,  unaccomplished, 
but  yet  conceivable,  and  some,  perhaps,  as  yet  incon 
ceivable,  he  still  may  become  able  to  do.  But  he  can 
never  float,  to  any  practical  purpose,  upon  the  waver 
ing  pinions  of  the  air — he  cannot  ascend  the  mountain- 
tops  without  toil,  or  return  in  safety  from  the  uttermost 
depths  of  ocean.  He  may  talk  of  subduing  nature,  but 
she  controls  him — he  is  strictly  subject  to  all  her  physi 
cal  laws  and  finds  no  security,  except  in  absolute  con 
formity.  A  torrent  of  the  mountain  sweeps  him  to 
destruction, — in  defiance  of  his  boasted  skill  and 
strength  and  courage,  the  proudest  bark,  that  ever 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         47 

rode  upon  the  billow,  breaks  under  him  and  he  sinks 
into  the  deep.  He  has  not  the  slightest  conception  of 
the  elementary  properties  of  the  very  wind  in  which 
he  trusts  to  waft  him  all  his  wealth, — and  some  un 
noticed  change  in  the  atmosphere,  which  is  the  breath- 
ful  food  of  his  life, — of  the  causes  and  operation  of 
which  he  really  knows  nothing, — stretches  him  upon 
his  bier.  He  cannot  avoid  the  lightning  or  resist  the 
whirlwind.  Do  what  he  will, — be  what  he  will, — 
there  will  still  be  peril,  misjudgmcnt,  uncertainty, 
disappointment,  defeat, — his  stoutest  purposes  thwart 
ed,  his  closest  calculations  reversed, — he  will  be  the 
puppet  of  chance,  the  slave  of  circumstances,  the 
subject  creature  of  a  power  mightier  than  himself, 
— there  will  still  be  the  resistances,  the  non-conformi 
ties,  the  uncompliant  divergencies,  the  uncontrollable 
complications  of  human  affairs, — there  will  still  be 
discordant  passions,  interests,  intolligencies,  caprices, 
hopes  and  fears, — the  failing  intellect,  the  enfeebled 
frame, — there  will  still  be  disease, — there  will  still  be 
death  ! 

If  his  thoughts  are  tempted  to  pass  beyond  the 
routine  of  his  daily  toils,  perhaps  he  gazes  curiously 
through  a  hollow  tube,  and  unnumbered  mysterious 
worlds  float  within  the  scope  of  his  projected  vision. 
Of  their  relations  to  the  globe  he  inhabits,  or  to  one 
another,  he  can  form  no  adequate  idea,  and  he  in 
stinctively  withdraws  from  the  contemplation  of  a  vast 


48         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

and  complex  system  of  the  universe,  so  utterly  beyond 
the  compass  of  his  circumscribed  imagination,  that 
the  effort  at  its  analysis  only  prostrates  his  powers. 
Marvelling,  he  beholds  the  fiery  messenger  of  heaven, 
periodically  returning  from  its  range  of  centuries, — 
and  what  proximate  idea  has  ever  enlightened  his 
perplexed  understanding,  as  to  the  mission  and  uses 
of  this  strange  and  startling  visitant  of  the  skies  ? 
Under  the  common  blaze  of  day,  when  he  persuades 
himself  he  is  acting  his  highest  part  amidst  the  recog 
nized  realities  of  life, — though  then,  more  than  ever, 
he  is  drawn  away  from  himself,  and  what  he  actually 
is,  is  confounded  and  lost, — yet,  in  the  confusion,  or 
the  concentration  of  his  mind,  he  believes,  perhaps,  in 
nothing,  but  that  practical,  progressive  state  of  society, 
along  whose  well-grooved  ways  and  upon  whose  open, 
established  channels  of  communication,  men  are  me 
chanically  borne  forward  to  honor  and  to  fortune. 
But,  under  the  hush  of  night,  he  looks  into  those  far 
depths  of  unimaginable  azure, — he  observes  the  inex 
pressible  loveliness,  the  unfailing  lustre,  the  unbroken 
arrangement,  the  immemorial  order  and  glory  of  the 
stars, — not  one,  broad,  diffusive,  circumambient  at 
mosphere  of  daily  light, — common  to  all  and,  there 
fore,  of  no  peculiar  individual  significancy, — and 
ministering  subserviently  to  his  own,  amongst  the 
ordinary  necessities  of  mankind, — and  upon  whose 
central  effulgence  he  neither  cares  nor  dares  to  gaze, 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         49 

— but  an  infinite,  separable,  miraculous  congregation 
of  rolling  worlds,  each  a  beaming  witness,  indisputa 
ble  to  reason,  of  something  far  surpassing  the  narrow 
limits  of  his  comprehension,  and  each  an  ordained 
oracle,  almost  prompting  his  heart  of  ignorant  pride 
to  whisper  to  itself — What  is  man  ? 

This  is  a  serious,  and  it  may  seem  a  sad  picture  of 
some  of  the  capacities  and  prospects  of  a  progressive 
age, — which,  by  all  the  supcradded  intellectual  efforts 
of  long  successive  generations,  it  must  be  admitted, 
is  very  imperfectly  instructed  in  regard  to  heaven 
above  and  earth  beneath ; — but  I  deem  it  necessary 
to  be  contemplated,  and  only  too  suitable  to  the  sub 
ject  and  the  times.  I  summon  the  Progressive  Age, 
then,  and  place  it  at  the  bar  of  deliberate  and  solemn 
judgment.  I  ask,  what  is  Progress  ?  and  claim  its 
intelligible  response.  I  will  be  satisfied  with  no 
vague,  uncertain,  sounding  generalities,  but  call  for 
an  accurate  definition  of  its  nature  and  its  hopes. 
At  least,  some  appreciable  idea  of  the  contemplated 
voyage  is  the  right  of  every  fellow-passenger,  equally 
interested  in  the  freight,  and  to  be  carried  forward, 
whether  he  will  or  no,  he  would  gladly  learn  towards 
what  point  of  safety,  upon  the  same  advancing  tide. 
The  object  of  life,  in  civilized  man  alone,  or,  amongst 
civilized  men  associated,  is  Good.  What  cannot  be 
shown  to  be  good,  is  generally  distinctively  evil — and 
nothing  is  more  likely  to  be  so,  than  a  confused  and 
5 


50         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

objectless  condition  of  individual  or  social  existence. 
Is  it  no  longer  to  be  assumed  as  certain  that  there 
are  principles  of  things,  true,  eternal,  inalienable  and 
unavoidable,  and  universally  applicable  to  every  age 
and  race  ?  Judged  by  these,  if  they  be  admitted,  are 
we  to  become,  intellectually  and  morally,  better  or 
worse  ?  Are  we  to  be  more  intelligent,  more  sound, 
more  sober,  more  just,  more  honorable,  more  charita 
ble,  more  sincere  ?  This  is  the  only  test.  And,  if  it 
cannot  be  shown  that  progress  is  likely  to  bring  about 
this  hopeful  reformation,  then  we  may  be  sure  our 
progress  has  not  taken  the  shape  of  advancement, — 
.and  we  shall  be  compelled  to  come  to  the  startling 
:and  terrible  conclusion,  that  society,  under  the  mod- 
«ern  theory  of  progress  and  reality,  may  be  breaking 
its  allegiance  to  reason,  which  is  the  manifestation  of 
truth, — and,  without  truth,  what  were  this  world  ? 
what  were  the  universe  of  God  ?  And  yet,  though 
Truth  itself  will  certainly  abide,  what  condition  of 
rsocial  existence  would  that  be, — giving  no  security 
for  life,  or  property,  or  freedom, — which,  deserting  its 
reverence  for  that  which  only  is, — this  golden,  inap 
preciable,  immovable  and  imperishable  true, — should 
yield  itself  up  to  the  fluttering  impulse  of  the  hour  ? 
For  then,  so  far  from  being  enlightened,  upon  any 
just  idea  of  intelligence, — or  safe,  upon  any  probable 
calculation  of  stability, — or  free,  in  any  rational  sense 
iOf  liberty, — we  should  have  become  enslaved  to  a 


THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.         51 

vague  public  opinion,  which  has  no  substantial,  set 
tled,  definite,  responsible  existence, — which  sprang 
up,  it  knows  not  how, — is  directed  by  influences,  it 
knows  not  what,  and  is  rapidly  bearing  us  forward, 
we  know  not  whither. 

But,  perhaps,  my  distinction  between  an  intellectual 
and  a  practical  age  was  unnecessary ;  and  though, 
upon  a  superficial  glance,  they  might  seem  the  direct 
antitheses  of  each  other,  yet  they  may  be  found,  after 
all,  to  be  mere  convertible  terms.  For,  consider  that 
the  human  being  is  in  his  best  estate,  when  his  moral 
attributes  cooperate  most  harmoniously  with  his  intel 
lectual  faculties.  Could  these  be  perfectly  conjoined,, 
according  to  his  order,  he  would  be  a  perfect  being. 
Divest  him  of  the  first,  which  regulate  his  relations  to 
society  and  his  Maker,  and  his  mind  reverts  at  once 
to  the  contemplation  and  sordid  pursuit  of  present 
good.  He  may  build  and  sow  and  reap  and  get  gain- 
He  may  exercise  the  keenest  insight  into  all  his  mate 
rial  aptitudes  and  necessities  and  the  means  of  their 
adaptation  and  supply.  He  may  fathom  not  only  the 
depths  of  physical  science,  but  may  speculate  within 
a  certain  range  of  intellectual  philosophy,  and  inves 
tigate  and  unfold  the  subtle  principles  of  human  gov 
ernment.  So  far  as  his  faculties  are  employed  upon 
the  practical  pursuits  of  mankind,  he  still  is  merely 
practical,  though  he  may  be  eminently  intellectual. 
But  if,  in  regard  to  moral  sense,  he  hold  himself 


52          THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND. 

amenable  only  to  the  policy  of  life,  his  intellectuality, 
controlled  by  no  reference  to  immutable  truth,  will 
be  likely  to  lead  him  to  mere  abstraction, — and  ab 
straction,  unless  regulated  by  a  just  sense  of  the  moral 
relations  of  things,  is  sheer  fanaticism.     He  may  seem 
to  himself,  then,  and  to  others,  to  be  even  a  reformer 
and  a  philanthropist,  and  a  speculator  in  the  univer 
sal,   material,   external  welfare    of  mankind.     The 
natural  quest  of  the  sublimated  human  mind,  working 
with  its  own  unassisted  powers,  and  dissatisfied  with 
the  apparent  condition  of  things,  is  not  after  the  reali 
zation  of  an  excellence  in  itself,  which  might  be  prof 
itable,  but  for  the  abstract  idea  of  absolute  perfection 
in  human  affairs, — for  perfect  equality, — perfect  free 
dom, — and  even,  so  far  as  the  practice  of  outward 
virtue  is  found  requisite  to  the  public  interest,  for 
perfect    goodness    itself, — and    yet   with    no    desire 
prompted  by  a  single  just  motive.     And,  so  it  would 
be  seen,  that  this  speculative  intellectualism  may  be 
striving  after  only  a  seeming  positive,  which  constantly 
eludes  its  grasp,  and  be  turning  away  from  only  a 
seeming  ideal,  which,  by  gradual  assimilation  to  its 
nature,  might  be  converted,  at  length,  in  its  own 
essence,  into  a  reality  of  supreme  excellence.     And 
so,  it  would  be  like  the  rudderless  barque,  otherwise 
fitted  to  traverse  the  great  Atlantic  and  Pacific  deep, 
— yet   miserably  stranded   upon   the    nearest   shoal. 
For,  in  fact,  it  would  carry  into  the  practical  opera- 


THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.         53 

tions  of  life  the  very  chimera  of  society,  imagined  in 
the  mouth  of  one  of  his  characters,  by  the  universal 
poet  of  wisdom — 

I'  the  commonwealth,  I  would  by  contraries 
Execute  all  things ;  for  no  kind  of  traffic 
Would  I  admit,  no  name  of  magistrate, — 
Letters  should  not  be  known ;  riches,  poverty, 
And  use  of  service,  none  ;  contract,  succession, 
Bourn,  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none ; 
No  use  of  metal,  corn,  or  wine,  or  oil ; 
No  occupation ;  all  men  idle,  all, 
And  women  too. 

In  a  word,  such  a  theorist  merely  dreams ;  and  his 
dreams,  wearing  the  semblance  only  of  excellence, 
are  in  reality  mischievous,  instead  of  beneficial ;  and 
the  prevalence  of  his  speculations  is  anything  but  an 
encouraging  test  of  the  substantial  welfare  and  wis 
dom  of  the  community.  And,  accordingly,  to  such 
an  exemplification  of  the  extravagant  impracticabili 
ties  of  the  intellectual  era,  the  wise  poet  still  replies, 

Prythee  no  more, — thou  dost  talk  nothing  to  me. 

It  was  a  very  different  glance  given  by  one,  whose 
glances  were  like  the  blades  of  piercing  spears,  at  a 
social  state  actually  sanctioned  by  the  consenting  tes 
timony  of  all  human  experience, — by  one,  who  was 
certainly  a  very  great  man  (while  there  were  great 
men)  of  strong,  noble  and  magnanimous  character, 
and  of  whose  personal  virtues,  so  far  as  I  know  or 


54         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

believe,  there  can  be  no  dispute.  It  is  to  be  found  in 
the  speech  of  Oliver  Cromwell  to  his  second  parlia 
ment, — couched  in  his  peculiar  style  of  phraseology, 
and  unfolding,  within  the  compass  of  a  hint,  the  germ 
of  principles  always  worthy  the  profoundest  consider 
ation. 

"And  so  many  of  them,"  says  he,  "  as  are  peace 
ably  and  honestly  and  quietly  disposed  to  live  within 
the  rules  of  Government,  and  will  be  subject  to  those 
Gospel  rules  of  obeying  magistrates  and  living  under 
authority, — I  reckon  no  godliness  without  that  circle  ! 
Without  that  spirit,  let  it  pretend  what  it  will,  it  is 
diabolical,  it  is  devilish,  it  is  from  diabolical  spirits, 
from  the  depths  of  Satan's  wickedness." 

I  am  detaining  you,  I  know,  very  much  too  long, 
but  you  will  see  it  is  upon  a  topic  susceptible  of  much 
more  extended  and  particular  treatment,  than  a  lec 
ture  permits.  Allow  me,  however,  to  bring  to  a  close 
this  discussion  of  social  principles,  which  is  so  inevi 
tably  general,  and  yet  drawn  up  with  no  lack  of  such 
thoughtful  care,  as  it  was  in  my  power  to  bring  to  the 
consideration  of  a  subject,  which  challenges  an  inter 
est  and  attention  beyond  all  others,  in  its  relations  to 
morals  and  manners  and  education  and  government 
and  religion, — in  a  word,  to  the  structure  of  society 
itself  and  the  apparent  symptoms  of  its  health  or  its 
disorder. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  mind  of  New  Eng- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         55 

land  has  been  very  much  stirred  up,  in  these  latter 
days,  and  that  very  great  changes  have  already  taken 
place,  in  the  personal  characteristics,  as  manifested  by 
the  expressed  opinions  and  general  demeanor  of  the 
people.  I  know  that  this  is  called  "  movement,"  imply 
ing  a  progressive  advancement, — and  that  it  fails  not 
to  find  many  ardent  eulogists,  in  the  various  depart 
ments  of  public  oratory  and  literature  and  the  press. 
Those,  who  are  venturesome  enough,  either  to  resist 
or  to  stand  aloof,  expose  themselves  to  a  good  deal  of 
obloquy  and  ridicule,  as  men  bigotedly  and  perti 
naciously  resolved  to  stay  behind  the  times. 

Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage 

is  the  somewhat  inconsiderate  moral  of  the  modern 
doctrine.  Still,  the  real  question  remains,  whether 
these  thoughtful  persons  may  not  be  wisely  striving, 
for  their  own  substantial  benefit  and  that  of  society, 
to  make  good  the  hold  they  have  upon  the  solid  and 
permanent  shore,  while  this  ungovernable  ship,  the 
times,  has  been  only  buying,  at  a  price,  discordant 
and  contrary  wind-bags  of  every  treacherous  and  mis 
chievous  witch  upon  the  coast,  and  then  madly  put 
ting  to  sea,  amidst  these  angry  and  conflicting  cross- 
blasts  of 

Caurus  and  Eurus  and  Argestcs  loud. 

You  would  not  have  me  say,  I  know,  that  amongst 


56         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

any  considerable  portion  of  the  better  classes,  in  old- 
fashioned,  sensible,  sturdy,  worthy,  respectable,  and 
consequently  respected  New  England,  there  was  to  be 
seen  in  morals,  rather  a  convenient  formality,  than 
any  settled  basis  of  character, — that  its  former  sober 
and  proverbial  Yankee  inquisitiveness  of  mind  was 
degenerating  into  mere  flippancy  of  manners, — that 
its  system  of  education  might  be  found  to  prove  only 
a  delusion  and  a  snare, — and  by  growing  more  tech 
nical  and  wider  in  its  range,  it  was  in  danger  of 
becoming  little  better  than  the  thinnest  possible  out 
side  burnish, — and  that,  especially,  the  lilies  of  the 
garden  of  knowledge  were  often  only  very  wastefully 
painted, — that  there  was  really  less  regard  for  the 
great  and  valuable  principles  of  government,  anxiously 
to  be  upheld,  under  all  popular  institutions,  like  the 
pillars  of  the  temple  of  freedom,  than  for  the  manage 
ment  of  the  state,  as  a  mere  engine  of  political 
schemers, — and  that  the  fervent  faith  of  the  fathers 
was  strangely  growing  cooled,  under  the  blazing  sun 
shine  of  an  enlightened  age,  into  a  more  than  Laodi 
cean  lukewarmness. 

And  yet,  if  apart  from  the  manifest  improvements 
in  our  outward  state,  there  be  reason  to  think,  that 
such  are  amongst  the  observable  indications  of  what 
is  now  called  Progress, — and  if,  as  a  consequence  it 
appears,  that  those,  who  assume  to  be  our  leaders  and 
guides,  the  organs  of  public  opinion,  the  controllers 


THKEE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.         57 

of  public  sentiment,  and  thus  the  very  contrivers  and 
framers  of  public  action,  are  of  a  class,  in  which  such 
characteristics  are  more  clearly  seen,  as  they  are 
more  naturally  and  easily  reached,  than  the  nobler, 
greater  and  less  easily  attainable  qualities,  which 
result  from  high  principle  and  severe  self-discipline 
and  a  just  public  requirement, — then  to  me  it  seems, 
that  the  subject  demands  the  deliberate  and  undis- 
couraged  devotion  of  the  wisest,  best  and  truest 
minds  amongst  us, — and  that  a  steady  administration 
of  wholesome  truth  would  profitably  take  the  place 
of  an  almost  universal  spirit  of  self-laudation.  For, 
seeing  our  natural  faces  in  such  a  glass,  we  straitway 
forget  what  manner  of  men  we  are.  Nor,  thus  blinded, 
can  any  true  improvement  be  made,  which  is  only  to 
be  carried  forward  upon  the  settled,  recognized  and 
universal  principles,  which  spring,  like  flowers  or 
like  weeds,  at  the  very  sources  of  man's  moral  na 
ture.  And  this  is  just  as  certain,  as  it  is,  that  humil 
ity  is  the  main  helper  of  all  virtue  and  all  knowledge, 
which  a  conceited,  pragmatical  and  retro-active  spirit 
only  obstructs. 

I  trust  I  have  made  no  such  unprofitable  use  of 
my  means  of  observation  and  reflection,  and  of  the 
lessons  of  history  and  the  instructions  of  religion,  as 
to  form  any  extravagant  and  indefinite  expectations 
of  society.  The  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil  is  still  as  bitter  in  the  mouth  of  man, 


58         THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND. 

as  it  proved  to  bo,  to  his  original  taste.  I  am  quite 
willing  you  should  understand  me  to  believe  that 
condition  of  society  to  be  the  most  healthful  and 
prosperous,  in  which  men  really  appear  superior  to 
one  another, — for  then  we  may  be  sure  that  some 
have  tasked  their  better  faculties  to  the  utmost, — and 
that  too  great  uniformity  does  not,  because  in  the 
nature  of  things  it  cannot  indicate  the  approximation 
of  the  entire  community  to  an  exalted  standard. 
For,  since  it  is  the  inevitable  lot  of  humanity  to  be  so 
preoccupied,  that  any  extraordinary  degree  of  culti 
vation  is  generally  impracticable,  except  in  those 
moral  attributes,  which  are  within  the  reach  of  all,  so 
I  do  not  see  how  any  social  state  can  be  really  health 
ful,  which  exhibits  little  comparative  excellence. 
Like  Mr.  Carlyle,  I  believe  in  heroes,  though  (to  my 
misfortune)  I  never  happened  to  read  a  word  of  his 
pamphlet, — for,  without  this  kind  of  superiority,  pop 
ular  institutions,  which  are  then  deprived  of  the  spur 
of  honorable  ambition,  which  is  the  breath  of  their 
life,  soon  become  corrupt  and  decay.  And  what  can 
we  say,  if  the  conviction  is  irresistibly  forced  upon 
us,  that  the  dead  level  of  the  community,  so  far  from 
implying  the  general  elevation  of  the  masses,  makes 
only  too  manifest  the  unnatural  depression  of  those, 
who  should  be  the  examples  and  guides  of  the  whole 
— their  conformity  to  a  degraded  standard  and  com- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.          59 

pliant   submission  to  the  base   requirements  of  the 
crowd. 

As  society  becomes  widened  and  more  thoroughly 
intermingled,  under  free  institutions,  there  will  be 
found,  I  fear,  a  natural  tendency  to  deterioration. 
The  apparently  multiplied  and  diversified  objects  of 
life  dazzle  the  imagination  of  the  inexperienced,  and 
draw  them  out  of  themselves,  and  away  from  the 
sense  of  personal  responsibility,  into  the  whirling  vor 
tex  of  affairs.  The  ordinary  pursuits  of  mankind,  in 
great  communities,  are  often  in  their  nature  little 
more  than  formal  and  superficial.  It  is  only  strong 
minds,  under  such  circumstances,  which  will  insist 
upon  self-cultivation.  Without  self-culture,  there  can 
be  little  depth  of  character,  and  without  this,  society 
soon  runs  to  folly,  madness,  and  dissolution.  In  a 
more  primitive  condition  of  civilized  life,  the  mind  is 
thrown  more  directly  upon  its  own  resources — the 
character  is  more  thoroughly  formed  upon  the  action 
of  its  natural  qualities,  and  is  less  warped  by  daily 
submission  to  a  criterion  of  opinion,  subject  to  a  hun 
dred  thousand  uncertain  influences — and  then,  if  its 
purposes  be  good,  the  man  becomes,  if  not  a  hero,  a 
statesman,  or  a  sage,  at  least,  in  his  own  degree,  a 
nobler  manifestation  of  his  kind.  And  so,  too,  great 
occasions  call  out  great  traits.  Undoubtedly,  war, 
with  all  its  horrors  and  woes,  often  unfolds  the 
noblest,  as  well  as  the  strongest  qualities — courage, 


60         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

honor,  hardihood,  generosity,  self-sac.rificc,  in  man, — 
the  "  Ride  of  the  Six  Hundred  " — the  intrepid  reso 
lution  of  Buena  Vista, — the  rustic  heroism  of  Bunker 
Hill — in  woman,  pity,  sympathy  and  a  channel  wide 
enough  for  the  unchecked  current  of  all  her  gushing 
emotions — she  becomes  the  very  genius  of  patriotism, 
— of  a  nobler  fortitude,  a  diviner  charity,  a  sublimer 
love  ;  and  we  learn  to  come  up  to  the  sentiment  of 
that  "  On  the  shield  or  with  it,"  of  the  Spartan 
mother, — to  muse  upon  the  hardly  half-told  devotion 
of  the  women  of  the  Revolution  to  father,  brother, 
lover,  pledged  to  the  embattled  service  of  their  coun 
try, — or  to  glow  at  the  story  of  those  angelic  minis 
trations,  which  have  forever  blended  the  idea  of  relief 
to  the  wounded  soldier  with  the  name  of  the  sweetest 
and  most  piteous  songster  of  the  skies. 

Certainly,  I  have  not  the  presumption  to  imagine, 
that  the  views  of  society  in  New  England,  which  my 
own  means  of  observation  and  reflection  have  enabled 
me  to  suggest,  may  not  be  justly  subject  to  modifica 
tion  and  correction  by  the  judgment  of  others.  But 
I  cannot  help  believing,  that  the  idea  now  so  preva 
lent,  that  we  are  being  drawn  steadily  forward  in  the 
current  of  an  indefinite  progress,  is  unfounded,  as  a 
present  fact,  even  if  it  be  not  in  general  inconsistent 
with  the  nature  and  capacity  of  man,  and  therefore, 
dangerous,  in  proportion  as  it  is  illusory  and  falla 
cious.  Especially  must  this  be  so,  if  the  theory  imply 


THREE  ERAS  OP  NEW  ENGLAND.        61 

any  confidence  in  the  advancement  of  society,  which 
is  not  absolutely  based  upon  the  conscious  self-culti 
vation  and  responsible  moral  accountability  of  its 
individual  members.  Logically  speaking,  society  can 
be  in  its  best  estate,  only  when  every  individual  mem 
ber  of  it  is  performing  his  own  private  and  public 
duties,  according  to  his  own  best  means  and  abilities. 
Nor  will  the  general  good  be  promoted  by  compound 
ing  for  this  personal  effort,  with  any  loose  confidence 
in  a  progress,  of  which  we  know  not  the  object,  the 
instruments,  or  the  end. 

Nor  am  I  willing  to  subject  myself  to  the  misap 
prehension  of  presenting  a  portrayal  of  the  character 
and  tendencies  of  New  England,  to  its  disadvantage, 
in  any  other  light  than  by  comparison  with  itself. 
Whatever  opinions  I  may  have  been  compelled  to 
form  in  regard  to  its  defects,  and  making  due  allow 
ance  for  all  its  shortcomings  and  errors,  especially 
those  of  a  speculative  nature,  I  cannot  but  reflect, 
with  pride  and  pleasure,  that  there  is  no  state  or 
country  in  the  world,  where  a  man  is  less  liable  to 
molestation  for  his  opinions, — which  are  thus,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  most  likely  to  work  out  their  own  even 
tual  sanction  or  condemnation, — or,  where  he  may 
live  in  such  general  freedom  and  safety.  I  take  the 
tone  of  society  in  New  England,  however  inferior  it 
may  be  to  that  of  the  superior  classes,  where  they  are 
most  cultivated  and  refined  in  Europe  or  America,  to 


02         THREE  EEAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

be  yet  superior  to  that  of  any  other  population,  spread 
over  a  region  so  extensive, — and  I  choose  this  stand 
ard,  therefore,  as  the  basis  of  such  speculations  as 
have  occurred  to  me,  in  the  pursuit  of  this  subject. 

It  is  for  the  sake  of  these  considerations,  that,  con 
ceiving  the  population  of  New  England  to  be  the  best 
criterion  I  can  select,  regarding  it  in  all  its  aspects, 
without  prejudice  or  favor,  it  could  be  hardly  too 
much  deplored,  should  any  apparent  tendency  be 
exhibited  by  it  to  fall  away  from  its  ancient  high 
estate.  Especially,  would  it  be  a  subject  of  profound 
regret,  to  see  a  reckless  public  sentiment  taking  the 
place  of  whatever  true  and  sound  principle  gave  its 
former  character  a  superior  stability  and  weight,  and 
a  correspondent  reputation,  upon  any  just  view  of 
the  condition  of  man  as  an  intellectual,  moral  and 
accountable  being.  I  or  it  was,  unquestionably,  the 
still  effective  working  of  the  great  qualities  and  char 
acteristics  of  the  founders  of  New  England,  which 
brought  out  those  remarkable  traits,  developed  during 
the  period,  which  it  was  my  purpose  to  consider  as 
its  heroic  age, — running  through  the  old  French  war, 
and  presenting,  long  subsequently  to  the  Revolution, 
as  worthy  a  people,  influenced  and  controlled  by  as 
numerous  a  body  of  able  and  noble  leaders,  as  was 
ever  seen,  in  any  age  of  the  world. 

Perhaps,  the  very  worst  thing  which  could  happen 
to  society,  in  its  immediate  results,  is,  to  be  thor- 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         63 

oughly  shaken  together  and  settled  down  to  the  com 
bined  pursuit  of  the  inferior  objects  of  life.  "What 
the  eventual  consequences  might  prove,  Providence 
only  knows.  For,  by  this  process,  good  and  evil  are 
inextricably  mingled  together,  and  the  lightest  ma 
terial  is  sure  to  rise  to  the  top.  And,  under  the 
more  ordinary  circumstances  of  life,  it  is  the  natural 
tendency  of  the  minds  of  men  to  become  belittled,  or 
otherwise,  according  as  the  affairs  upon  which  they 
are  individually  and  exclusively  set,  are  of  a  grander 
or  a  meaner  stamp.  The  immortal  mind  struggles 
for  the  mastery  ;  but  thought  becomes  scattered  and 
confused  beyond  the  possibility  of  concentration,  and 
men  thus  lose  their  hold  of  those  great  principles  of 
things,  upon  which  all  their  present  and  future  inter 
ests  are  dependent.  Then  it  is,  that  they  require 
great  crises  in  affairs  and  the  storms  of  the  soul,  to 
stir  them  to  their  depths  and  bring  them  back  to  the 
truth.  For  then,  ability  is  tested,  character  is  weighed, 
truth  is  carefully  considered,  and  opinion  spread 
abroad,  if  not  logically  sound,  returns  upon  the  in 
ventor,  instead  of  going  forth,  like  the  down  of  the 
thistle, — shall  I  say,  as  now  ?  and  no  man  knows,  or 
cares  what  may  become  of  it.  Then,  too,  men  become 
great,  who,  in  the  consciousness  of  their  own  weak 
ness,  find  the  elements,  the  motives  and  the  means  of 
advancing  strength.  Then,  too,  society,  thus  led, 
can  make  just  progress,  because  its  leaders  are  really, 


64         THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

in  their  aims  and  principles  and  desires,  above  and 
beyond  the  spirit  of  their  age. 

It  is  in  vain  to  ask,  what  is  to  be  the  end  of  Prog 
ress?  But  I  know  that  society,  which  cannot  take 
care  of  itself,  and  cannot  be  properly  taken  care  of, 
except  by  those  whom  it  educates  for  that  purpose, — 
can  only  be  wisely  directed  to  any  beneficial  end  by 
wise  and  good  and  true  men, — such  as  every  intelli 
gent  community  should  inexorably  demand  its  lead 
ing  spirits  to  be.  Of  such  a  stamp,  with  all  their 
faults  and  failings,  was  the  ancestral  stock  of  New 
England,  and  I  need  not  offer  evidence  to  convince 
you,  that  the  basis  of  that  character,  upon  which  the 
reputation  of  New  England  really  rests,  was  formed 
long,  very  long  before  our  own  day.  And,  although 
there  are  inevitable  points  of  difference  between  the 
condition  of  our  ancestors  and  our  own,  I  know  that 
no  salutary  advancement  can  be  made,  in  whatever 
constitutes  the  substantial  welfare  of  life,  without  the 
better  personal  qualities  which  they  exhibited,  with 
out  the  honest  motives  which  prompted  their  con 
duct,  without  the  learning  which  they  honored  and 
the  virtues  which  they  reverenced.  But,  amidst  all 
our  growing  faults,  I  believe  there  are  still  the  ele 
ments  of  great  excellence  left  in  New  England.  I 
am  no  believer  in  general  intellectual  degeneracy. 
The  unextinguished  mind  of  man,  through  every  age 


THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.         65 

of  darkness,  has  vindicated  his  immortal  capacity  and 
been  the  manifest  witness  of  God. 

The  future  is  not  ours, — but  I  can  conceive  of 
causes,  which  would  tend  to  concentrate  and  revive, 
once  more,  what  I  hope  is  the  essentially  sound  mind 
of  New  England.  And  we  might  then  have  a  progress, 
fitted  to  effect  a  reformation,  if  possible,  not  to  be 
reformed, — to  fix  high  principle, — to  develop  the  fac 
ulties, — to  raise  the  character, — and  relieve  it  of 
frivolities  and  formalities  and  insincerities — to  draw 
the  intellectual  being  away  from  erroneous  and  un 
profitable  and  degrading  channels  of  investigation, 
where  only  it  creeps  which  ought  to  soar — to  allure 
it  to  philosophy,  rather  than  speculation — to  induce 
it  to  rise  on  wings  of  beaming  light,  which  remain 
folded  or  unfolded  as  we  choose,  above  the  surface  of 
things,  and  so  gain  impulse  to  go  sounding  down  to 
the  depths  of  thought,  the  elements  of  government, 
the  foundation  of  morals,  the  reasonableness  of  re 
ligion, — to  turn  it  away  from  the  spirit  of  chicanery 
and  the  miserable  self-delusions,  which  infect  modern 
society — so  that  it  may  buy  the  truth  and  sell  it 
not, — that  is,  hold  it  in  possession,  like  an  heir-loom 
of  glory,  and  part  with  it  at  no  price, — to  bring  the 
mind  safely  back  from  its  empty  wanderings  into  in- 
explorable  space,  and  teach  the  man  to  devote  his 
powers  to  that  world  of  duties  and  wants,  follies  and 

errors,  temptations  and  trials, — the  microcosm  of  him- 
6* 


66        THREE  ERAS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

self.  And  we, — the  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims  and 
the  Puritans,  who,  according  to  their  light,  had  views 
of  extraordinary  clearness,  and  yet  perhaps  saw  not 
all  things, — let  us  devoutly  cherish  our  trust  in  the 
prevalence  of  such  glorious  progress  as  this,  promoted 
by  sincere  hearts  and  perpetuated  in  endless  peace, — 
the  very  name  of  which,  one  of  the  chiefest  orators 
of  antiquity  pronounced  so  sweet — Et  nomen  pads 
dulce  et  ipsa  res  salutarls. 

And  yet,  if  Providence  shall  have  determined  oth 
erwise, — still  let  us  trust  that,  in  some  fiercer  domes 
tic  struggle,  it  may  be,  to  which  all  states  and  nations 
are  only  too  subject,  or  in  some  fairer  exercise  of  con 
flict  with  a  foreign  foe,  we  should  find  our  honored 
and  beloved  New  England  brought  back  more  stead 
ily  to  the  just  balance  of  her  inherent  character, — 
yet  having  her  divines,  her  orators,  her  scholars,  her 
soldiers,  her  patriots,  her  citizens  like  those  of  old, — 
and,  in  the  glowing  language  of  our  lyric  poet,  whose 
laurels,  wreathed  upon  his  brow  by  your  own  noble 
State,  are  still  the  inherited  honors  of  her  soil, — yet 
counting,  amongst  her  choicest  jewels,  the  true  suc 
cessors  of  those,  to  whose  memory  the  mind  instinc 
tively  reverts,  in  every  hour  of  darkness  and  public 
perplexity — 

Men,  who  swayed  senates  with  a  statesman's  soul, 
And  looked  on  armies  with  a  leader's  eye. 


THE  USES  AND  ABUSES 


THE     DAILY     PRESS 


THE  subject  of  my  Lecture  this  evening,  will  be 
"  The  Daily  Press."  An  extraordinary  theme  of  dis 
cussion,  perhaps  you  will  say,  this  general  object  of 
daily  interest,  common  as  the  air,  the  companion  of 
our  firesides  and  of  all  our  resorts  of  business  or 
pleasure ;  suited,  in  its  multiplied  manifestations,  to 
our  tastes,  our  habits,  our  pursuits,  our  recreations, — 
in  fact,  to  all  the  diversified  elements  of  the  human 
mind,  and  become,  at  last,  an  absolute  necessity  of 
life.  I  am  not  aware,  that  anybody  before  has  made 
this  miscellaneous  text-book  of  popular  literature  the 
topic  of  a  philosophical  lecture.  But  I  think  you  will 
see,  that  the  very  universality,  which  it  claims,  chal 
lenges  your  closest  consideration  of  its  titles  to  regard ; 
and  that  an  honest  investigation  of  the  characteristics, 
the  merits,  the  deficiencies,  the  powers,  and  the  obli 
gations  of  anything,  upon  which  you  are  really  so 
dependent,  ought  to  afford  the  materials  and  the  mo 
tives  for  your  profouudest  interest. 


68  THE   USES  AND  ABUSES   OF 

"We  read  newspapers,  it  is  true,"  you  reply, — 
"  they  serve  the  momentary  purpose  of  their  produc 
tion  and  circulation ;  they  bear  us  along  with  them, 
abreast  of  the  rapid  flood  of  passing  events ;  they  give 
us  our  morning  subjects  of  discussion,  and  wipe  the 
misty  cobwebs  of  dreamland  out  of  our  opening  eyes  ; 
they  afford  the  materials  of  our  evening  solace,  and 
we  drop  them  with  our  final  yawn,  as  we  sink  into 
the  embraces  of  nature's  sweet  restorer ;  we  glance 
through  their  columns,  for  casual  and  temporary 
amusement, — really,  we  seldom  discover  anything, 
•which  dwells  very  seriously  upon  the  mind ;  what 
they  contain  makes,  after  all,  but  a  very  slight  im 
pression  ;  in  a  moment,  we  should  be  at  a  loss  to 
recall  anything  which  met  our  eyes ;  we  fling  them 
aside  with  indifference,  though,  in  truth,  we  should 
miss  them  absent, — and  who  cares,  afterwards,  for  an 
old  newspaper  ?" 

It  is  true,  really,  that  there  was  nothing  to-day, — 
to-morrow,  perhaps,  there  will  be  something,  to  hear 
or  to  tell,  for  these  modern  Athenians,  always  pursu 
ing,  often  balked,  but  never  turned  aside,  from  their 
anxious  quest  after  some  new  thing.  So  far,  in  fact, 
as  you  have  acquired  any  information  of  serious  and 
personal  interest, — anything,  which  intimately  con 
cerns  the  chief  ends  and  high-reaching  capacities  of 
man's  rational  life  and  the  perfection  of  his  character, 
the  impression  of  successive  days  will  prove,  probably, 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  69 

quite  as  evanescent.  What  the  reader  has  actually 
learned,  towards  the  advancement  of  his  intellectual 
and  moral  nature, — if,  in  these  days  of  wandering 
thought  and  confused  motive,  such  an  object  is  yet 
within  the  range  of  telescopic  vision — his  acquisitions, 
in  this  behalf,  may  have  been  little  better  than  a 
blank.  He  may  have  passed,  in  daily  review,  per 
haps,  successive  and  repeating  columns  of  these  cir- 
cumambulatory  oracles  of  modern  society,  to  the 
framing  and  unfolding  of  whose  winged  responses 
went  so  many  busy  fingers  and  still  busier  brains — 
and  as  he  turns  aside  from  the  inspection,  what  dis 
tinct  idea  remains  in  his  mind,  of  that  rapid  succes 
sion  of  incident,  and  of  those  intermittent  flashes  of 
speculation,  which  played  rather  upon  his  eye,  than 
ranged  themselves  intelligibly  before  his  understand 
ing  ?  The  interest  was  transient,  and  it  is  gone. 
The  gathered  results  of  his  eager  enquiry  after  knowl 
edge,  where  are  they  to-morrow  ?  "Where  are  they  to 
day?  The  listless  hour,  which  they  occupied,  took 
with  it  its  vague  impressions, 

Making  them  momentary  as  a  sound, 
Swift  as  a  shadow,  short  as  any  dream, 
Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  collied  night, 
That  in  a  spleen  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth, 
And  ere  a  man  hath  power  to  say,  Behold ! 
'  The  jaws  of  darkness  do  devour  it  up. 

Were  the  newspaper  really  old,  it  might  indeed  bo 
estimated  at  sterling  value.     What  a  host  of  reviving 


70  THE   USES  AND  ABUSES   OP 

memories  the  aspect  of  one  of  those  dingy  sheets  of 
another  day  inspires !  No  effort  of  merely  human  in 
tellect  could  now  avail  to  keep  pace  with  the  ever- 
moving  and  constantly  intermingling  squadrons  of 
the  modern  press,  as,  file  by  file,  they  wThcel  into  the 
field  of  sight  and  march  with  the  ever  moving  hours ! 
But,  what  touching,  what  affecting,  what  pictorial  as 
sociations  cluster  around  their  periodical  advent,  when 
dailies  were  not,  but  the  primitive  weekly  sheet,  with 
its  well-considered  summary  of  life's  distant  incident, 
and  its  homebred  speculations,  colored  with  the  sober 
hues  of  thoughtful  interest,  made  its  eventful  evening 
appearance,  at  the  secluded  village  or  the  provincial 
town ! 

He  comes,  the  herald  of  a  noisy  world, 

News  from  all  nations  lumbering  at  his  back — 

The  hardy  postman,  perhaps,  has  brought  it  through 
drifting  snows, — or  the  stony  street  has  echoed  to  the 
wheels  of  the  long-expected  stage-coach, — and  now, 
the  welcome  budget  is  just  at  hand !  Close  fast  the 
shutters,  and  let  the  eager  circle  around  the  cheerful 
fireside,  shut  out,  for  a  long,  long  week,  from  much 
intercourse  with  the  remoter  world,  listen  to  all,  which 
has  stirred  the  hearts  and  affected  the  minds,  and 
moulded  the  fortunes  of  men  and  cities,  within  the 
round  of  our  domestic  or  national  sympathies, — or, 
dwell,  with  all  the  vivid  instincts  of  a  wondering 
imagination,  upon  distant  news,  which,  for  weary 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  71 

months,  lias  been  laboring  towards  us  from  farthest 
Ind,- 

Damascus,  or  Morocco,  or  Trebizond. 

It  is  possible,  that  the  antiquated  perceptions  of  our 
predecessors  may  have  been  occupied,  in  the  mean 
time,  with  reading  quite  as  profitable  and  instructive  ; 
that,  during  the  intervals  of  this  intellectual  commu 
nication  with  the  outer  world,  they  may  have  found 
employment  for  the  mind,  calculated  to  enchain  and 
reward  the  attention, — that  what  they  read  or  re 
flected  informed  the  judgment,  instead  of  scattering 
the  thoughts,  satisfying  the  mind  writh  a  glance,  flit 
ting  over  its  unstamped  surface,  like  successive  shad 
ows,  neither  imparting  strength,  nor  educing  its  own 
energies ;  and  so  rendering  it  really  wavering  and  in 
efficient  in  action,  and  incapable  of  the  nobler  and 
hardier  elements  of  its  condition  and  being. 

And  what  would  we  not  gladly  give  for  some  old 
newspapers,  which  suggest  themselves,  as  amongst 
the  possibilities  of  the  imagination  ?  Bring  us  in,  if 
you  please,  a  file  of  the  "  Crusader."  I  should  like 
to  look  over  again  the  telegraphic  report  of  that  stir 
ring  sermon  of  Peter  the  Hermit,  which  raised  Europe 
out  of  itself,  and  sent  the  flower  and  chivalry  and  the 
yeomanry  of  Christendom,  for  a  cause  of  the  heart,  if 
not  of  the  understanding,  to  do  battle  and  perish, 
piously  and  thankfully,  on  the  burning  plains  of 
Syria.  Let  us  read,  as  they  transpired,  the  events  of 


72  THE   USES   AND  ABUSES   OF 

that  pictured  narrative,  which  has  intermingled  with 
the  tissue  of  the  world's  history  one  broidered  filament 
of  golden  romance,  lasting  as  its  annals,  and,  now 
and  forever,  twining  itself  inextricably  around  all  the 
social  relations  of  civilized  life.  What  price  would  be 
too  dear,  for  an  "  Independent  Press,"  for  example, 
or  the  "  Daily  Clarion,"  of  the  period,  proclaiming,  in 
trumpet-tones,  its  denunciations  of  that  brutal  Henry 
of  England,  who  made  a  shambles  of  his  loves, — or  of 
his  still  bloodier  daughter,  who  slew  the  innocent  for 
their  faith  ?  Or,  shall  we  call  for  the  Galignani,  of 
three  hundred  years  ago,  and  muse  upon  minuter 
details  than  glow,  even  on  Sully's  fascinating  page,  of 
the  early  adversities  and  heroic  struggles  of  that  other 
Henry, — the  conqueror  of  Ivry  and  bestower  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes — of  adversities  borne  like  a  man 
who  was  more  than  a  king, — of  his  final  triumph, — 
of  his  heavy  doom,  "  fatal  to  liberty," — fatal  to  all 
which  that  age  could  grant  to  the  progress  of  free 
dom.  Let  our  hearts  glow,  as  we  welcome,  over  the 
misty  mountain's  top,  the  dawnings  of  a  brighter  day, 
foretokening  a  purer  faith.  Let  our  zeal  kindle  to 
resist  the  machinations  of  the  Medici,  that  bigoted 
and  cruel  race.  How  can  we  help  a  vow  of  ven 
geance,  as  we  read  of  murder  dabbling  the  silver 
hairs  of  the  good  Coligni  with  his  blood  ?  Let  us 
recall  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  in  the  guilt 
of  its  instant  horrors,  unparalleled,  says  the  French 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  73 

historian,  by  equal  barbarity,  in  all  antiquity  or  the 
annals  of  the  world.  We  have  heard  their  tale, — let 
us  speed,  on  the  errand  of  mercy,  to  the  inmost 
fastnesses  and  retreats  of  the  persecuted  Vaudois,  or 
cheer  the  indignant  message  of  stout,  magnanimous 
Cromwell,  remonstrating,  with  words  that  spoke  of 
flame  and  thunder  and  the  sword,  against  Supersti 
tion,  guilty  of  the  blood  of — 

slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 


Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold  ! 

Or,  what  should  we  say  to  the  "  Puritan  Recorder" 
of  1620,  faintly  portraying  the  inexpressible  emotions 
of  Carver  and  Bradford  and  Brewster  and  Standish 
and  the  rest, — as  they  launched  upon  the  scarcely 
traversed  ocean  of  their  pilgrimage,  to  brave  the  com 
mingled  yet  conflicting  elements  of  the  coming  winter 
and  the  unknown  sea, — and  left,  with  lingering  looks, 
the  home  of  their  human  affections,  that  they  might 
peacefully  commune,  in  the  exile  of  a  savage  land, 
with  the  dearer  homo  of  their  souls ! 

And  yet,  who  would  care  to  sec  all  the  glittering 
blazonry  of  human  history  sobered  down  by  the 
homely  daub  of  utilitarian  philosophy,  or  reduced 
within  the  petty  compass  of  a  pen-and-ink  sketch  ? 
Who  would  wish,  that  all  the  sacred  and  tender  mys 
teries  of  life  should  be  accurately  sounded  and  sur 
veyed  and  mapped  out,  before  his  eyes, — and  every 
7 


74  THE   USES  AND   ABUSES   OF 

gleaming  headland,  on  the  vast  ocean  of  time,  taken  in 
its  bearings  and  distances,  with  the  clear  and  sober  cer 
tainty  of  geometrical  analysis  ?     I  rejoice  that  there  is 
yet  something  uncertain,  secret,  mysterious,  indefina 
ble,  grand — altogether  out  of  the  scope  of  the  peering 
researches  and  shallow  philosophy  and  hasty,  unreflect 
ing  speculations  of  the  day.     I  rejoice  that  there  are  yet 
left  gaps  and  fissures,  along  the  royal  highway  of  Time, 
beyond  all  engineering  art  to  level  and  subdue, — 
which  only  Imagination  can  fill  up  with  her  own  deep 
ening  colors,  and  people  with  forms  and  shapes  and 
fancies  of  her  own  legitimate  creation.     It  may  be 
the  aim  and  hope  of  the  Present,  to  bring  down  much 
which  constitutes  the  grace,  and  grandeur  and  beauty 
of  the  world  to  its  own  criterion  of  well-investigated 
and  well-defined  mediocrity.     But  behind  us,  in  the 
Past,  arc  the  mountains  which  cannot  be  touched. 
Between  them  lie  sweet,  mysterious  valleys,  practica 
ble  only  to  their  enfranchised  denizens,  and  never  to 
be  explored  by  the  impertinent  aggressions  of  modern 
curiosity, — within  the  recesses  of  whose  shadowy  for 
ests  forever  sits  the  nymph,  yet  prophetic  by  the  side 
of  her  whispering  fountain,  and  the  sage,  whose  les 
sons  of  the  past  are  now  and  ever  will  be  the  irrever 
sible  wisdom -of  life. 

But  what  shall  we  say  to  this  grasping  Present? 
Shall  it  lift  the  veil,  which  has  hitherto  shrouded  the 
decencies  and  imparted  some  wholesome  awe  to  the 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  75 

proprieties  and  dignities  of  nature  ?  Shall  it  creep 
forward  and  forward,  with  noiseless  step,  until  it  be 
comes  exaggerated  into  a  power  multiform,  inquisi 
tive  and  irresponsible, — entering,  like  the  plague  of 
Egypt,  into  our  bed-chambers  and  our  ovens  and 
kneading-troughs, — before  whose  ominous  advances 
modesty  shrinks  away  and  virtue  is  appalled,  and 
under  whose  cold,  scrutinizing  eye  vice  is  publicly 
paraded,  until  the  flush  of  detected  shame  fades  from 
her  callous  cheek, — and  our  half-formed  aspirations 
for  good  and  the  cherished  affections  of  our  lives,  and 
the  thoughts  we  would  not  reveal  to  a  brother  and 
whisper  in  no  audible  tones  to  our  own  hearts,-  shall 
they  be  remorselessly  rifled  from  our  breasts  and 
flung,  sensitive  and  palpitating,  into  the  common 
mart,  to  be  trampled  over  by  the  inconsiderate  and 
jeering  throng  ? 

Do  I  object,  therefore,  to  the  freedom  of  the  press  ? 
I  protest  only  against  its  mismanagement.  If  it  has 
its  value,  it  has  also  its  defects.  I  object  only  to  its 
license,  its  incompetence,  its  shallowness,  its  imperti 
nence,  its  venality.  I  urge  only  the  prevalence  of 
those  evils,  in  the  reformation  of  which,  those  who 
control  it  and  those  who  are  controlled  by  it  have  a 
common  cause.  It  is  the  idlest  cant  in  the  world, 
this  talk  which  it  sometimes  employs,  about  shackling 
its  freedom.  It  can  bo  restrained,  in  this  land  of 
liberty,  only  by  its  own  self-respect  and  a  decent  ob- 


7G  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

servance  of  the  settled  sentiments  of  mankind.  I 
know  of  no  reason,  why  freedom  of  opinion  should  not 
be  indulged,  in  a  fair  discussion  of  its  claims  to  public 
confidence  and  regard.  The  only  real  danger  to  the 
press  is,  that  it  will  grow  too  autocratic  in  the  excess 
of  its  own  pampered  liberty.  I  know  how  little  one 
earnest  tongue  can  do  against  the  incessant  murmurs 
of  its  ten  thousand  mouths.  But  I  am  conscious  of 
no  vague  dread  of  a  power,  not  always  wisely  and 
justly  administered ;  and  besides,  I  believe  that  the 
ablest  and  soundest  conductors  of  the  press  are  only 
too  conscious  of  such  deficiencies  and  necessities,  as  I 
might  feol  it  within  my  province  to  point  out. 

One  of  the  early  governors  of  Virginia  once  stated 
the  fact,  as  a  matter  of  exultation,  that  there  was  not 
a  newspaper  in  the  entire  territory  under  his  adminis 
tration  ;  and  an  eminent  member  of  Congress,  from 
the  same  State,  more  recently  took  occasion  to  thank 
God,  that  nothing  of  the  sort  could  be  found  in  his 
district.  He  had  observed,  perhaps,  how  potent  an 
instrument  it  had  become  for  good,  or  for  evil, — irre 
sistible  in  its  combined  energies,  when  it  maintained 
the  right,  and  before  which  no  individual  strength,  or 
virtue  or  genius  could  stand,  when  it  chose,  or  stum 
bled  upon  the  wrong.  His  mind,  undoubtedly,  had 
looked  upon  the  subject  only  in  its  least  flattering 
aspects.  I  fear  I  too  shall  have  to  take  some  unfavor 
able  views  of  the  present  administration  of  the  press ; 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  77 

but,  in  speaking  of  its  evils,  my  purpose  is  only  to  see 
how  it  may  best  be  made  instrumental  to  the  public 
good  and  its  own.  I  can  conceive  of  a  state  of  public 
sentiment,  which  would  demand  a  higher  tone,  and 
would  reward  the  application  of  nobler  powers,  than 
are  usually  bestowed  upon  the  conduct  of  the  jour 
nals  of  the  times.  In  a  country  like  this,  the  Press, 
— more  than  its  Legislatures, — should  be  in  the  hands 
of  its  most  enlightened  and  worthiest  citizens.  In 
stead  of  making  it  a  mere  record  of  passing  events, 
or  a  mere  channel  of  time-serving  speculations  upon 
trivial  and  temporary  affairs, — or  a  mere  pander  to 
popular  appetite,  corrupting  the  public  and  corrupting 
itself, — would  its  conductors  take  into  consideration 
sometimes  the  object  of  raising,  as  well  as  merely  en 
tertaining  the  public  mind,  what  a  glorious  field  of 
usefulness  might  be  opened  within  the  sphere  of  their 
already  incalculable  influence !  Surely,  I  do  not 
mean  to  allege,  that  there  are  not  newspapers,  and 
many,  which  are  conducted  with  more  or  less  refer 
ence  to  a  principle  so  generous  and  beneficent.  But 
who  will  deny,  that  there  is  a  mighty  swarm  besides, 
issued  solely  upon  the  selfish  consideration  of  pecu 
niary  advantage, — ready  to  tamper  with  any  principle, 
— prompt  to  Ksten  to  any  scandal,  glad  to  sell  mis 
chief  and  abuse  by  the  square, — eager  to  bargain, 
either  to  apply  or  withhold  a  venal  praise  ?  Who, 
that  has  examined  this  subject,  must  not  sorrowfully 
7* 


78  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

admit,  that,  instead  of  using  their  means  of  useful 
ness  to  its  appropriate  end,  they  have  tended,  in  many 
ways,  to  the  manifest  corruption  of  the  popular  mind  ? 
That  they  have  demeaned  public  sentiment,  diluted 
public  taste,  weakened  public  judgment  ?  And  that, 
amongst  not  the  least  of  the  evils,  to  which  they  have 
subjected  society,  they  have  substituted  themselves, 
thus  reduced  in  character  and  aim,  for  higher  and 
better  sources  of  knowledge  ;  and  have  accustomed  us 
to  rely  upon  the  crude  and  flimsy  and  irresponsible 
speculations  of  a  veiled  and,  therefore,  mysteriously 
effective  agency,  for  the  old,  sound,  manly  sense  of 
the  individual  citizen,  self-dependent  and,  therefore, 
self-reliant,  who  exercised  himself  in  wholesome  in 
vestigation  and  reflection,  and  came  to  his  honest  and 
satisfactory  conclusions,  by  a  process  of  hard  thought  ? 
But  who  will  take  the  trouble  of  thinking,  when  the 
newspaper  editor  is  paid,  for  doing  this  tedious  busi 
ness  in  his  behalf  ?  And  thus  the  man  is  taken  away 
from  the  exercise  of  his  own  powers  ;  he  learns  to 
distrust  a  judgment,  which  he  docs  not  use  ;  he  be 
comes  the  puppet  of  others,  of  perhaps,  no  higher 
qualifications  than  himself,  who  play  with  his  opin 
ions,  loosen  the  hold  of  his  social  and  personal  obliga 
tions,  gradually  modify  his  thoughts,  mould  his  sen 
timents,  form  his  character, — leave  him  not  a  thinking, 
but  an  artificial  and  a  superficial  man, — and  too  often 
convert  him  into  one  of  those  feeble  and  wavering 


THE   DAILY  PRESS.  79 

creatures,  common  enough  in  our  day,  who  are  swayed 
by  the  weakest  impulses  and  are  insensible  of  the 
highest  duties  of  manhood  and  citizenship  and  religion 
itself. 

If  there  be  any  soundness  in  the  views  thus  indi 
cated,  and  if  correspondent  changes  only  too  obvious 
have  come  over  the  face  of  society,  I  am  compelled  to 
believe,  that  the  main  cause  will  be  found,  in  the  good- 
natured  sufferance  of  the  public  towards  the  least 
respectable  portion  of  the  daily  press.  And,  for  my 
own  part,  I  hesitate  not  to  avow,  that  I  would  sooner 
rely,  for  a  sound  judgment  upon  men  and  manners 
and  things,  on  the  plain,  thinking,  well-schooled 
philosopher  of  nature,  amidst  her  woods  and  fields,  in 
the  dimmest  valley  of  the  land, — where  the  morning 
radiance  of  the  daily  press  scarcely  sheds  its  perva 
ding  beams, — but  another  gospel,  of  benigner  light, 
opens  and  instructs  his  understanding, — than  upon 
the  opinions  of  many  of  those,  with  whom  you  and  I 
are  most  conversant  in  the  common  walks  and  inter 
course  of  our  lives, — the  busiest  men  in  the  active 
pursuits  of  the  world,  who  read  all  the  newspapers, — 
that  intermingled  mass  of  eager,  moving,  wavering, 
puzzled  beings,  called  society  of  to-day,  men  of  unset 
tled  thoughts  and  indecisive  minds, — who  live  in  a 
blaze  which  serves  only  to  dazzle  and  bewilder  them, 
who  learn  little  enough  at  any  fountain-head  of  true 
and  sober  knowledge,  but  drink  intoxicating  draughts 


80  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

from  every  shallow  rivulet,  which  trickles  or  stagnates 
on  their  way. 

I  know  that  all  this  may  seem  to  some  little  better 
than  rank  heresy  to  the  spirit  of  the  age  and  its  main 
instruments  of  thought.  But  I  claim,  that  the  great 
body  of  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  as  they  are  gener 
ally  conducted,  do  not  fairly  meet  the  assumed  de 
mands  and  necessities  of  the  times.  If  they  are  to 
be  read  as  mere  matters  of  amusement,  and  to  occupy 
only  our  idle  hours,  if  such  hours  are  to  be  found,  or 
ought  to  be  found,  in  this  modern  busy,  bustling 
world  of  ever-existing  and  constantly-growing  respon 
sibilities, — even  here  there  is  a  high  duty  devolving 
upon  them,  to  restrain  their  present  tendency,  wil 
fully  or  carelessly  to  mislead  and  debauch  the  public 
mind.  If  the  age  be  really  unsound  and  insincere, 
given  over  to  frivolity,  devout  only  in  its  material 
longings,  impatient  of  truth,  listening  only  with 
eager  interest  to  preachers  of  smooth  things, — then, 
nothing  can  be  so  effectual,  as  a  corrupt  and  subser 
vient  press,  to  foster  its  unspiritual  habitudes,  and  to 
pander  profitably  to  appetites,  which  grow  by  what 
they  feed  on, — until  the  unwholesome  leaven  has 
finally  worked  itself  into  all  the  constituent  elements 
of  the  incorporated  mass, — and  cause  and  conse 
quence  begin  to  act  interchangeably  upon  each  other, 
and  the  things  which  once  were  real  become  to  us 
little  better  than  shadows,  and  those  which  we  once 


THE   DAILY   PEESS.  81 

sought  for  our  blessings  are  now  our  bane,  and  the 
names  of  former  glory  are  but  a  mockery  and  a  re 
proach,  and  virtue,  truth,  honor  and  religion, — the 
dignity  of  learning  and  the  incitements  to  manly 
enterprise, — the  grace,  the  charm  and  the  ornament 
of  life, — the  aims,  the  ends  and  the  means  of  knowl 
edge, — all  sink  together  into  one  common  abyss  of 
degradation,  ignominy  and  ruin. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  let  us  soberly  inquire  if 
the  spiritual  hopes  of  mankind,  like  doves  flocking  to 
their  windows,  are  now  entitled  to  rest  their  weary 
feet  upon   the   aspiring  edifice  of  human  improve 
ment  ?     Have   the  new  builders  of  this  temple  of 
Progress  presented  it  to  our  eyes,  truly  a  stable, 
magnificent  and  imposing  sanctuary,  for  the  refuge 
of  burdened  and  anxious  and  despondent  thought,  fit 
to  be  the  elect  cathedral  of  a  true  spiritual  worship  ? 
In  clearing  away  the  accumulated  rubbish  of  ages, 
from  every  vaulted  crypt,  weakening  nothing  in  the 
solid   foundation   of  the   admirable   structure,  have 
they  brought   only   more   prominently  forward   the 
venerable  tombs  of  the  good  and  great,  who  lie  be 
neath,  where  alternate  light  and  shadow  touch  them 
with  an  intermingling  harmony  of  glory  and  gloom  ? 
Will  what  they  have  affixed  superincumbent,  upon 
the  uprising  and  stately  pile,  be  likely  to  prove  only 
a  buttress  of  strength, — so  that  every  fretted  pinnacle 
and   stalwart   tower   and   soaring   spire,  shall   seem 


82  THE  USES  AND   ABUSES   OF 

growing  day  by  day,  only  nearer  to  the  skies  ?  Are 
we  sure  that  all  within  the  hallowed  precincts  is  de 
cent  and  fraternal  and  just  and  wise,  as  truly  becomes 
the  complete!  framework  of  the  social  system  of  an 
advancing  age  ?  Is  it  certain  that  no  trivial,  faith 
less  and  mocking  spirit  pervades  the  assembled  mul 
titude,  desecrating  the  temple,  while  it  enfeebles  and 
degrades  their  own  hearts  ?  Docs  no  self-seeking 
and  subservient  idol  of  an  insane  worship,  fashioned 
by  men's  hands,  clothed  with  vanity  and  crowned 
with  lies,  sit  grinning  an  empty  approval,  behind  the 
altar  of  their  devotion  ?  In  a  word,  does  the  sub 
stantial  progress  of  life  consist,  not  in  the  mere  exter 
nals  of  society, — not  in  those  walls  and  ships  and 
houses, — which  the  old  Greek  poet,  three  thousand 
years  ago,  affirmed  could  never  constitute  a  state, — 
looking  deeply  into  the  capacities  and  necessities  of 
our  nature,  and  observing  those  true  signs  of  mental 
and  moral  development,  which  do  constitute  great 
ness  or  its  opposite  ? 

For,  if  the  true  foundation  of  Progress  be  not  laid 
in  whatever  makes  up  the  grand  sum  of  substantial 
superiority  in  man,  and  shows  him  a  nobler,  higher, 
better  and  happier  being  than  before, — more  able, 
intellectually,  so  far  as  intellect  avails,  to  demon 
strate  the  great  problem  of  life,  —  more  earnest, 
morally,  as  wrell  he  may  be,  to  apply  the  means  of 
existence  to  their  legitimate  ends, — if  truth,  that  first 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  83 

indispensable  element  of  all  substantial  excellence, 
has  failed  to  become  the  rule  of  life,  and  the  law  of 
its  ordinary  action, — and  justice  has  not,  at  length, 
been  able  to  remove  that  obnoxious  and  blinding 
fillet  from  before  her  eyes,  and  not  yet  merit  wins 
its  due  reward,  nor  goodness  seems  as  lovely  as  it  is, 
— if  these,  and  other  correspondent  indications,  be 
not  amongst  the  observable  signs  of  a  (so-called)  ad 
vancing  age, — how  can  we  style  that  progress,  which 
exhibits  only  a  more  striking  failure  to  conform  to 
the  very  fundamental  principles  of  our  being  ?  For 
if  society  be  not  thus  seen  moving — if  not  with  one 
spontaneous  and  general  consent  of  action, — yet,  its 
effective  battalions  in  advance,  its  music  and  banners 
to  the  front,  its  sentinels  falling,  one  by  one,  into 
rank,  and  gradually  drawing  every  distant  outpost 
into  the  line  of  the  forward  march,  together  with  the 
whole  promiscuous  multitude  of  the  hangers-on  and 
hangers-back  of  the  upbreaking  and  victorious  camp, 
— if  society  be  not  thus  visibly  moving  towards  the 
outer  boundary  (if  boundary  be  conceded)  of  the 
intellectual  and  moral  advancement  of  the  race, — 
then,  I  beg  to  suggest  the  conclusion,  as  one  of  in 
stant  and  unavoidable  application, — that  the  scouts, 
skirmishers  and  pioneers,  who  are  to  clear  the  way  of 
conquest,  should  themselves  be  more  true, — that  the 
newspaper  press  itself,  the  common  and  necessary  in 
strument  adapted  to  promote  the  public  improvement 


84  THE   USES  AND   ABUSES   OF 

and  its  information,  upon  points  entering  into  all  the 
vast  and  indefinable  relations  of  public  and  private 
life,  should  become  more  consonant  with  the  hopes  of 
the  leading  minds  of  the  nation,  and  should  afford 
such  instruction  upon  our  weightiest  interests,  as 
every  rational  anticipation  of  a  higher  condition  of 
social  intellect  and  moral  sensibility  so  imperatively 
demands. 

And  it  may  be,  after  all,  that  no  ungenerous  sketch 
of  the  elements  of  our  social  characteristics  may  find 
some  justification  in  a  liberal  estimate  of  the  aspects 
and  tendencies  of  the  times.  It  does  not  necessarily 
follow,  I  hope,  that  knowledge  grows  weaker,  as  it 
becomes  diffused.  I  sincerely  trust,  that  the  limited 
degree  of  general  enlightenment,  which  the  great 
mass  of  mankind  is  actually  able  to  compass, — not 
certainly  complete,  or  perfect,  or  universal,  but  pre- 
clusively  confined  very  much  within  the  range  of  the 
ordinary  necessities  and  powers  and  the  absolute 
requirements  of  life, — should  tend  rather  to  lower 
than  to  raise  the  standard  of  human  knowledge,  and 
should  operate  to  the  actual  discouragement  of  our 
higher  faculties  and  capacities  of  attainment,  by  the 
incessant,  multiplied  and  combined  competitions  of 
those  of  an  inferior  grade.  It  may  not  be  a  neces 
sary  result  of  the  very  constitution  of  our  nature, 
that  the  broader  diffusion  of  a  certain  generally- 
attainable  amount  of  knowledge,  more  or  less  definite 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  85 

or  profound,  should  have  the  effect  to  render  the 
absolute  and  positive  fund  of  human  information  and 
learning  and  thought, — all  to  be  acquired  and  culti 
vated  and  wrought  out  only  by  assiduous  labor,  or 
grasped  only  by  exalted  genius,  severally  in  the  untir 
ing  application  of  his  own  specific  faculties,  by  the 
statesman,  the  scholar,  the  philosopher  and  the  poet, — 
less  really  available  to  the  substantial  elevation  of  the 
species, — of  man  as  man,  each  having  a  common 
interest  in  the  sum  of  good,  and  each  catching  some 
reflected  glow  from  the  constellated  firmament  of  his 
brotherhood,  who  have  "  rejoined  the  stars," — and 
that  a  result  so  unhappy  should  be  brought  about  by 
a  constant  and  frittering  process  of  intellectual  amal 
gamation, — so  that  the  relations  become  really  con 
fused  between  the  half-thinker  or  shallow  thinker,  and 
the  mind  gifted  and  inspired  to  teach, — and  no  longer 
one  star  seems  to  differ  from  another  star  in  bright 
ness  ;  but  the  misty  orb,  on  the  outer  verge  of  the 
distant  horizon,  reveals  its  twinkling  beams,  as  benefi 
cently  and  resplendently  beautiful,  to  the  common 
apprehension,  as  the  glory  of  the  upper  host  of  heaven, 
which  magnificently  shine,  and  shine,  and  forever 
shine  on, — and  charlatans,  sciolists  and  smatterers 
obtain  the  mastery  of  affairs,  and  vain  and  empty 
pretension  becomes  the  rule  and  standard  of  life ;  and 
they,  who  yield  a  bewildered  deference  to  this  de 
graded  and  degrading  dominion,  forfeit  at  once  the 
8 


86  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OP 

motive,  the  reason  and  the  example  for  the  attain 
ment  of  superior  excellence.  But  the  theory  I  would 
suggest  gains  some  force  from  the  proposition, — that, 
since  correct  habits  and  aptitudes  of  thought,  upon 
speculative  subjects  always,  and  upon  matters  of 
practice,  as  a  general  rule,  can  be  formed  only  by  the 
few,  who  have  opportunities,  instead  of  the  many, 
who  are  immersed  in  their  individual  affairs, — and, 
since  sound  and  accurate  thinkers  are  as  rare  as 
great  men,  and  the  list  of  those  whom  we  could  name, 
amongst  the  perfectly  reliable  masters  of  the  mind 
and  its  attributes,  woiild  be  found  exceedingly  limited 
in  our  own  day, — it  must  be,  that  the  multitudes  of 
distinguished  personages,  whom  the  newspaper  press 
is  continually  offering  to  our  admiration,  are  in  fact 
great,  rather  as  multiples  of  each  other,  and  only  by 
the  combined  force  of  their  aggregated  powers,  than 
upon  the  basis  of  any  individual  claim  to  the  general 
deference  and  respect. 

And  when  we  reflect  upon  the  extraordinary  devel 
opment,  energy  and  brilliancy  of  the  human  intellect, 
as  displayed  in  the  pursuits  of  science,  philosophy,  lit 
erature  and  arms,  during  the  first  half  of  the  present 
century,  to  go  no  further  back,  and  consider  that 
scarcely  a  preeminent  living  teacher  of  the  human 
mind,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  can  be  pointed  out,  to 
meet  the  present  wants  and  aspirations  of  an  advanc 
ing  age,  and  to  save  it  from  very  trivial  tendencies 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  87 

and  many  miserable  delusions,  degrading  enough  for 
a  period  absolutely  deficient  in  newspapers, — when, 
certainly,  within  the  circle  of  literature,  meaning  no 
derogation  to  the  merits  of  two  or  three  eminent 
names,  there  is  no  great  poet  or  novelist,  of  the  order 
known  to  that  earlier  era,  to  offer  us,  and  so  to  be 
accepted,  as  if  of  divine  inspiration, — the  purer  and 
sweeter  and  nobler  pictures  of  life, — to  animate  us 
with  exalted  sentiments,  as  if  an  oracle  had  breathed 
its  spirit  to  mingle  with  the  inner  longings  of  the 
soul,  to  stimulate  and  enchant  the  fancy,  and  to  fill 
the  imagination  with  charming  pictures,  which  al 
most  satisfied  and  controlled  its  capacities,  and  glitr 
tering  as  the  frost-work  on  every  pendent  bough, 
which  the  sunlight  of  this  brilliant  wintry  day  has  in 
vested  with  a  more  than  fairy  lustre,  throughout  the 
ample  area  of  Nature's  magnificent  temple ; — when 
we  conceive,  that  an  enduring  and  desperate  warfare, 
convulsing  the  mightiest  states  of  Europe,  reversing 
the  speculative  doctrines  of  centuries,  and  the  histori 
cal,  traditional  and  legendary  prejudices  of  nations, 
and  involving,  probably,  the  future  destinies  of  Chris 
tendom, — that  this  warfare  has  awakened  the  dormant 
faculties  of  no  leading  statesman,  biding  his  time  and 
fitted  for  the  time,  and,  strangest  of  all,  has  brought 
forward  110  unquestionable  hero,  no  recognized  king 
of  men, — to  the  gaze  of  an  expectant  and  admiring 
world, — it  must  give  us  some  pause,  as  to  the  unset- 


88  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

tied  problem,  of  the  still  advancing  progress,  or  the 
receding  intellectual  pretensions  of  the  age. 

In  the  exercise  of  such  judgment  as  I  am  able  to 
apply  to  this  knotty  question,  I  am  compelled  to  be 
lieve,  upon  evidence,  that  there  is  in  fact  some  ap 
parent  deficiency,  the  just  ascertainment  of  which 
ought  to  stagger  the  overweening  intellectual  esti 
mate,  at  present  so  prevalent  amongst  us.  But  is 
there  not  something,  after  all,  in  the  theory  I  have 
imperfectly  proposed, — and  is  not  the  newspaper  press 
really  responsible  for  a  social  mischief,  seriously  de 
manding  the  public  attention  and  claiming  its  own 
reformation,  at  the  hazard  of  public  distrust,  involving 
its  eventual  contempt  ?  Ah,  if  I  am  to  pay  a  devout 
worship,  I  ask  no  idols  of  wood  or  stone,  or  things, 
which  I  can  trample  upon  and  destroy,  but  give  me 
gods !  Give  me  something,  which  in  the  conscious 
ness  of  my  own  nature  I  acknowledge  as  higher  than 
I,  and  to  which  I  tender  the  supreme  homage  of 
my  soul,  because  of  its  inherent  essence  of  superior 
virtue !  My  mind  revolts  from  the  adoration  of  things 
of  brass  and  clay !  And  is  not  this,  too  often  the 
senseless  and  fruitless  worship,  which  this  self-consti 
tuted  image-maker  of  the  Press,  day  by  day,  sets  up  ? 

If,  as  the  poet  says  (and  well  the  poet  knew)  excel 
lence  is  the  eternal  food  of  envy,  this  may  account  suf 
ficiently  for  that  spirit  of  detraction,  which  too  often 
leads  the  Press  flippantly  to  arraign  and  improvidently 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  89 

to  misjudge  men  of  more  than  common  mark, — to 
undervalue  their  abilities,  to  slur  over  their  virtues, 
to  gloat  at  the  discovery  of  their  failings,  to  molest 
their  lives  and  despoil  even  their  graves  of  the  priv 
ileged  sanctity  of  repose.  But,  since  true  greatness 
defies  every  ordeal,  and  we  may,  therefore,  let  this 
pass,  what  shall  we  say  to  a  practice  still  more  vicious, 
and  hostile  to  whatever  is  sound  and  wholesome  in 
the  constitution  of  society — which,  by  no  warrant,  ex 
cept  that  authoritative  plural  number, — that  sovereign 
"  We," — which  presupposes  editors  and  kings  to  rep-' 
resent  the  voice  of  the  people,  which  is  the  voice  of 
God, — gives  out  delusive  oracles,  which  have  the 
eventual  influence  to  mislead,  though  they  may  seem 
to  find  little  immediate  response  in  the  popular 
breast?  For  thus  it  is  they  arc  so  ready  to  lavish 
printed  praises  upon  those,  who  arc  really  unfitted  for 
public  distinction ;  to  attribute  superlative  merit  to 
very  ordinary  men  ;  to  make  heroes  and  geniuses  out 
of  very  flimsy,  commonplace  material ;  to  create  such 
hosts  of  human  wonders,  that  the  order  of  nature  is 
reversed  and  exceptions  become  the  marvels, — to  re 
plenish  the  golden  fountain  of  eloquence  out  of  the 
mouth  of  every  petty  politician, — although  profane 
history,  certainly,  has  sent  us  down  but  two  pre 
eminent  names  of  the  orators  of  all  antiquity,  and 
their  genius  trained  by  the  laborious  efforts  of  a  life, 
fostering  and  developing  nature, — and  one  slight  page 


90  THE    USES    AND   ABUSES    OF 

might  easily  hold  all  who  have  come  after  them ; — 
and,  though  the  list  of  the  great  poets  of  the  world 
scarcely  gives  one,  for  a  century,  during  the  period  of 
its  reliable  secular  history,  to  claim  the  very  harp- 
strings  of  the  master  of  all  song,  for  every  pretty  flut 
tering  warbler,  fitted  perhaps  to  regale  us  with  the 
passing  melodies  of  the  hour, — to  set  a  thousand 
scribbling  men  and  women  temporarily  beside — 

the  few,  the  immortal  names, 

Which  were  not  born  to  die, — 

when  those  who  owned  the  names,  until  they  were 
fairly  dead  in  the  body  no  medicinal  fame  often 
thought  of  embalming, — to  laud  private  and  common 
virtues,  and  so  insult  society,  as  if  these  were  actually 
its  anomalies  and  phenomena, — to  blazon  charity, 
whose  modesty  is  her  merit,  and  who  is  a  virtue  only 
when  her  face  is  veiled, — to  descend,  for  the  objects 
of  our  exalted  admiration  into  the  daily  round  of  our 
ordinary  pursuits, — to  constitute  half  our  Dogberries 
Solons  and  niilitia-men  gods  of  war, — and  even  to 
personify  in  print  Policeman  X — to  flatter  publicly, 
for  common  duties  properly  performed,  the  well-dis 
posed  director  of  the  train,  the  attentive  clerk  of  the 
steam-boat,  the  obliging  assistant  at  the  hotel,  the  dis 
interested  purveyor  of  the  public  feast, — instead  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  to  stir  up  another,  which  is 
conventional,  superficial,  cockneyish,  pert  and  bluster 
ing, — to  foster  idle  vanity  and  small  conceit, — to 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  91 

stimulate  ill-founded  ambitions, — to  create  petty  jeal 
ousies, — to  engender  mortifications  and  bad  blood, — 
to  stagger  and  discourage  good  sense, — to  injure  un 
pretending  merit  and  genuine  desert,  which  scorn  to 
employ  the  unworthy  arts,  of  which  they  arc  thus 
indirectly  the  victims, — to  squander  vapid  eulogies, 
which  seek  out  and  minister  to,  if  they  do  not  actually 
create,  a  vitiated  public  sentiment,  but  never  to  dig 
up  concealed  gold,  laboriously  and  generously,  and 
hold  it  forth,  for  the  worth  of  the  pure  metal,  and  chal 
lenge  for  it  its  due  value, — to  render,  in  a  word,  their 
praise  and  their  censure,  which,  if  sparingly  used,  would 
be  and  ought  to  be  valuable,  equally  worthless  to  a 
just  mind,  because  reckless  and  ^discriminating, — to 
pervert  the  truth  of  nature,  by  the  creation  of  a  petty 
standard  of  public  estimation,  and  thus,  to  confute 
and  confound  the  genuine  distinctions  between  excel 
lence  and  inferiority, — good  and  ill, — upon  which  the 
just  balance  of  the  whole  economy  of  life,  and  all  that 
is  worth  a  moment's  thought,  is  solely  dependent, — 
and  so,  to  infect  with  fatal  disorders  the  very  heart 
and  soul  of  our  ordinary  being.  And  I  cannot  think 
the  picture  has  been  too  darkly  colored,  since  it  is 
easy  to  see  how  rapidly  society  may  be  lowered  by  the 
operation  of  such  causes.  I  do  not  really  believe, 
that  the  human  mind,  in  its  inherent  attributes  and 
characteristics,  has  absolutely  dwindled  in  our  day,  as 
the  criterion  of  the  newspapers  might  lead  us  to  ap- 


92  THE   USES   AND  ABUSES   OF 

prehcnd, — but  I  do  think,  that  a  false  and  vicious 
standard  of  things,  rapidly  taking  precedence  of  the 
true,  and  resulting,  I  fear,  from  a  depreciated  moral 
sense,  has  tended  very  nmch  to  the  obscurity  of  our 
mental  vision, — -just  as  he,  who  goes  abroad,  under 
the  loveliness  of  the  shining  night,  and  holds  a  far 
thing  candle  to  his  eyes,  shall  see  nothing  of  the  eter 
nal  blue  above,  or  of  the  enduring  lustre  of  the  ever- 
rolling  stars. 

From  such  a  condition  of  things  as  I  have  attributed 
to,  perhaps,  the  most  popular  portion  of  the  Press,  to 
gossip  and  scandal  the  step  is  easy, — until  little  real 
regard  is  paid,  by  newspapers  of  even  much  higher 
pretensions,  to  that  truth  which  is  the  life-blood  of  all 
civilized  society,  or  that  decency  which  is  its  necessa 
ry  mantle.  So  that  we  live  abroad,  instead  of  at 
home,  which  is  the  sole  fountain-head  of  all  reliable 
virtue,  and  the  privacy  of  life  is  converted  into  an 
open  spectacle, — and  details,  in  which  our  firesides,  if 
we  respect  them,  can  have  no  share,  and  malicious 
discussions  of  character,  such  as  no  private  assembly 
of  reputable  men  and  women  would  countenance,  are 
daily  presented  in  print,  for  the  amusement  and  to 
the  peril  of  the  injudicious  and  unthinking.  And  we 
may  justly  fear,  that  the  best-conducted  portion  of 
the  press  is  becoming  only  too  careless  in  regard  to 
the  responsibilities  of  publication,  and,  that, — sep 
arating  and  leaving  off  two  of  the  important  elements 


THE    DAILY   PRESS.  93 

in  the  apostle's  triply-conjoined  definition  of  charity, — 
of  theirs  it  can  only  be  said,  and  that  in  more  senses 
than  one — "  It  bclicveth  all  things." 

But  a  newspaper,  in  order  to  be  useful,  or  even  to 
retain  the  semblance  of  its  wonted  authority,  must  be 
careful  not  to  come  down  to  the  momentary  and  fluc 
tuating  impressions  of  the  populace.  In  some  sense, 
if  it  have  any  value  for  its  character,  it  is  constituted 
an  arbiter  and  a  judge  between  the  Truth  and  its 
constant  liability  to  factious  or  interested  popular 
perversion.  As  a  mere  vehicle  for  the  diffusion  of 
general  intelligence,  it  should  exercise  a  judgment 
and  forbearance,  regulated  by  some  just  standard  of 
true  public  utility.  It  should  present  us  only  with 
such  articles  of  information,  as  it  behoves  the  public 
to  know, — not  seeking  merely  to  gratify  a  prurient 
curiosity,  but  affording  whatever  may  be  valuable 
and  useful  to  men  and  women,  who  have  serious 
business  in  the  world  to  perform,  or  who  require  to 
be  refreshed  and  invigorated  by  innocent  amusement. 
And,  above  all,  it  should  make  only  those  persons  the 
subjects  of  public  comment,  who  are  really  public 
property, — such  as  candidates  for  office,  or  those  who 
come  before  the  world  voluntarily,  as  literary  or  pro 
fessional  men,  who  ought  to  expect  to  be  properly 
discussed,  and  a  thorough  investigation  of  whose 
claims  is  the  public  right  and  enures  to  the  general 
benefit. 


94  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

Indeed,  in  a  condition  of  society  devoted  so  thor 
oughly  to  this  description  of  reading,  as  a  substitute 
for  books,  and  which  is  fast  taking  the  place  of  books 
of  any  sterling  value,  the  profession  of  an  editor, 
however  lightly  it  is  often  undertaken,  seems  to  me  a 
charge  of  very  high  responsibility.  Certainly,  in  a 
country  of  free  institutions,  the  daily  questions  arising 
in  the  science  of  politics, — which,  although  a  little 
distorted  in  its  practical  operation,  is  but  another 
name  for  public  morals, — require  the  application  of 
abilities  of  no  common  order ;  and,  unless  the  trum 
pet  is  to  give  an  uncertain  sound,  demand  a  keenness 
of  susceptibility  to  the  motives  and  obligations  of 
duty,  to  be  found  only  in  the  complete  organization 
of  the  head  and  heart  of  a  whole  man.  That  he,  who 
undertakes  to  instruct  others,  should  be  himself  a 
person  of  sound  education,  I  care  not  how  acquired, 
would  be  only  a  truism,  if  the  theory  were  not  so 
frequently  contradicted  in  practice.  And  if  the  mind 
of  him,  who  addresses  us  under  so  many  interesting 
aspects,  shall  have  been  substantially  trained  by  the 
reason,  if  not  the  rules  of  logic, — if  he  has  been  for 
tunate  and  diligent  enough  to  have  gathered  up  the 
treasures  of  a  broad  general  information, — if  he  has 
accustomed  himself  to  the  exercise  of  a  rapid  analyti 
cal  faculty, — if  he  enjoy  the  blessings  of  stability  of 
purpose,  conscientiousness,  prudence,  forethought  and 
forbearance,  possess  the  rare  ability  to  see  a  ques- 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  95 

tion  in  all  its  relations,  the  sagacity  to  discover  and 
boldness  enough  to  tell  the  wholesome  truth, — he 
would  then  be  such  an  editor,  as  we  would  gladly  see 
at  the  head  of  more  of  the  newspapers,  now  dissemi 
nated  so  widely  over  the  surface  of  our  common 
country.  Indeed,  I  know  of  nothing  more  refresh 
ing,  in  our  times,  than  to  take  up  unexpectedly  a 
sterling  newspaper, — and  such  there  are, — which  has 
the  ring  of  the  true  metal  about  it, — neither  conven 
tional  nor  qualified,  nor  looking  after  momentary 
applause, — not  appearing  before  our  eyes,  tricked  out 
in  harlequin  garments  of  opinion,  patched  over  with 
the  shreds  and  tatters  of  real  or  supposed  popular 
prejudice, — but  cheering  us  with  the  honest  senti 
ments  of  one,  who  docs  not  forget  he  is  a  man, 
though  an  editor, — who  looks  over  society  with  a  just 
purpose,  seeing  its  wants,  rebuking  its  errors,  en 
couraging  its  better  impulses, — not  waiting  to  see 
which  way  the  current  will  eventually  move,  and  so 
holding  back  for  a  favorable  moment  to  jump  upon 
the  top  of  the  flowing  tide,  under  the  weak  fear  of 
losing  some  unsteady  and  often  worthless  patronage, 
— but  meeting  and  taking  the  responsibility, — really 
digging  for  the  truth,  which  is  the  great  public  con 
cern,  as  for  hid  treasures, — in  the  discharge  of  his 
proper  duties  of  investigation  and  reflection,  really 
leading,  because  he  has  thought,  instead  of  following 
the  public  mind, — which  thinks,  too,  but  not  always 


96  THE   USES  AND   ABUSES   OP 

correctly  upon  its  first  impulse, — and  thus,  upon  a 
substantial  basis,  meriting,  and  consequently,  in  one 
satisfactory  shape  or  another,  winning  his  due  re 
ward. 

I  know  well  enough  that  there  are  newspapers  of  a 
high  and  improving  stamp  amongst  us.  Perhaps, 
the  popular  demand  for  those  of  a  higher  grade  has 
not  yet  fully  warranted  that  general  division  of  labor, 
which  collects  the  available  talent  of  many,  each  in 
his  specific  sphere  of  usefulness,  for  the  instruction 
and  entertainment  of  the  multitude,  and  thus  renders 
the  journals  of  the  old  world  so  much  superior  to  our 
own.  Certainly,  no  one  person  can  be  expected  to 
know  everything.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  absolute 
ignorance  on  the  part  of  editors,  in  regard  to  the 
common  topics  of  intellectual  society,  is  an  offence, 
culpable  because  implying  presumption,  and  because 
it  is  directly  prejudicial  to  the  cause  of  human  im 
provement.  And,  no  doubt,  the  reader  sometimes 
thinks  it  a  serious  abuse,  when  the  editors  do  not 
seem  to  know  how  often  a  good  story,  or  a  good  joke 
has  been  produced  before,  and  impute  to  the  sailor 
or  the  Hibernian  of  to-day  jests  and  blunders,  much 
older  than  those  found  in  the  facetious,  but  some 
what  familiar  writings  of  the  late  Mr.  Miller, — such 
as  the  Greeks  and  Romans  laughed  at,  many  cen 
turies  ago,  and  which  amused  our  boyhood, — and 
still  more,  when  they  bring  forward  the  very  com- 


THE  DAILY   PRESS.  97 

mon-places  of  literature,  as  if  they  were  fresh  contri 
butions  to  the  fund  of  good  learning, — treating  us 
over  again,  for  new,  with  the  high  sentiment  and 
generous  thought,  sparkling  like  jewels  on  the  golden 
pages  of  the  masters  of  mere  English  letters  and  phi 
losophy, — which  they  imagine  they  have  thus  dis 
covered,  though  others  have  dug  them  out  often  and 
long  before, — and  so,  by  their  mode  of  reproducing 
other  men's  creations,  not  only  rob  them  of  their  just 
praise,  but,  thus  checking  invention,  throw  positive  ob 
stacles  in  the  way  of  human  progress  and  improvement. 
But  above  all  others,  there  is  one  field  of  discus 
sion,  upon  which  newspapers,  now-a-days,  have  some 
what  arrogantly  entered,  in  the  labor  of  which  they 
have  shown,  to  a  marked  degree,  their  own  inef 
ficiency  in  the  ordinary  arts  of  cultivation,  and  have 
well  nigh  converted  the  fair  domain  of  the  republic 
of  letters  into  an  unwholesome  wilderness  of  worth 
less  and  noxious  weeds.  I  think  they  are  responsible 
for  it,  in  an  eminent  degree,  and  the  fact  shows  how 
really  disqualified  newspaper  editors  often  are  for  the 
office  of  literary  critics.  I  will  give  them  the  credit 
of  sometimes  admitting,  that  they  are  not  themselves 
very  well  versed  in  such  matters,  and  of  pleading, 
that  the  necessities  of  their  position  preclude  them 
from  the  proper  consideration  of  subjects,  so  essential 
to  the  welfare  of  all  intelligent  and  cultivated  society. 
But  then,  the  wonder  grows,  with  what  hope  of 
9 


98  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

generous  service  to  a  noble  cause,  against  that  stalk 
ing  giant  of  Error,  always  advancing  to  defy  the 
armies  of  Truth, — they  put  on  harness  which  they 
have  not  proved, — and  upon  what  theory  of  moral 
accountability,  they  yield  up  their  means  of  influence, 
if  not  their  judgment  and  duty,  to  interested  and 
often  incompetent  parties,  who,  for  the  most  selfish 
ends,  mislead  and  abuse  the  public  mind  and  inflict 
infinite  injury  upon  the  cause  of  a  healthy  and  ser 
viceable  literature.  I  do  not  mean  to  assert,  that  an 
entirely  accurate  knowledge  of  the  technical  canons 
of  criticism,  however  useful, — and  a  mind  stored  with 
all  the  diversified  accomplishments  of  elegant  scholar 
ship,  and  a  memory,  furnished,  like  a  well-ordered 
battery,  with  all  the  bristling  armament  of  attack  and 
defence, — though  of  the  utmost  service,  as  those  of  us 
who  are  deficient  in  them  often  feel,  in  attempting  to 
make  up  a  deliberate  opinion  upon  any  book, — that 
these  are  absolutely  necessary,  to  enable  us  to  deter 
mine  what  works  of  the  day  we  may  read  with  profit, 
or  what  might  tend  to  pervert  our  taste,  take  the 
bloom  off  of  the  freshness  of  our  moral  sensibility 
and  belittle  our  understandings, — and  the  reversals 
of  cotemporary  decisions,  which  time  at  length  de 
crees,  might  teach  us  all  some  modesty  as  to  the 
value  of  a  too  hasty  judgment, — bringing  this  one 
down  and  setting  up  another, — and  our  own  expe 
rience  of  the  estimate  we  place,  to-day,  upon  those 


THE   DAILY  PRESS.  99 

writings,  over  whose  pages  we  wept  or  laughed,  a 
month  ago,  and  which  we  do  not  care  much  to  look 
upon  again, — tend  very  much  to  show  the  importance 
of  a  higher  and  sounder  standard  of  criticism,  than 
can  he  conveniently  maintained  in  the  columns  of  a 
daily  newspaper. 

But  I  do  claim,  that  the  lavish  and  indiscriminate 
praise  bestowed  by  the  newspaper-press,  often  with  a 
strange  unanimity,  upon  swarm  after  swarm  of  worth 
less  and  sometimes  really  pernicious  writings,  argues 
either  a  1  ilindncss  of  judgment,  which  requires  much 
enlightenment,  or  a  willingness  to  tamper  with  the 
best  interests  of  society,  demanding  its  emphatic  rep 
robation.  I  do  earnestly  object  and  protest  against 
a  practice,  degrading  to  the  press  and  treacherous  to 
its  trust,  under  which  it  sacrifices  that  impartial  ex 
pression  of  opinion,  which  is  the  sole  test  of  its  inde 
pendence,  and  the  only  basis  of  its  utility,  and  thus 
betrays  the  public  confidence,  by  selling  literary  judg 
ment,  which  should  be  above  price,  to  be  valuable  at 
all, — by  permitting  its  sheets  to  become  the  mere  vehi 
cles  of  those,  whose  only  object  is  pecuniary  gain, — and 
by  thus  dragging  folly,  impudence  and  vice  through  all 
the  foetid  channels  of  society,  and  often,  over  paths 
of  fresher  fragrance  and  purer  light,  where  only  inno 
cence  and  peace  ought  to  enjoy  the  loving  and  secure 
domain.  As  if  it  were  not  enough  for  the  press,  in 
some  of  its  manifestations,  to  come  forward  in  forma 


100  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

pauperisj  and  make  appeals  of  solicitation  to  the 
public  sympathy  and  support,  which  may  not  be  un 
reasonable,  when  they  are  really  deserved, — or,  in 
other  moods,  to  assume  a  bolder  front,  and  claim  for 
its  dictates  the  sanctity  of  supreme  law, — to  insinuate, 
that  he,  who  does  not  study  their  columns,  might  as 
well  neglect  all  other  studies, — to  remind  the  thought 
less  multitude  of  direful  and  complicated  disasters, 
always  impending  over  that  unwary,  and  now,  I  sup 
pose,  merely  hypothetical  individual,  who  does  not 
take  the  papers, — as  if  it  were  not  enough,  by  thus 
pushing  their  own  circulation,  to  have  substituted,  in 
a  great  measure,  for  the  solid  food  of  the  mind,  lucu 
brations,  often  excellent,  but  which,  every  intelligent 
editor  knows,  afford,  after  all,  a  very  unsatisfactory 
repast  for  the  hungry  mind, — so  that  the  very  ele 
ments  of  our  mental  growth,  the  guides  of  our  youth, 
the  refreshment  of  our  manhood,  the  solace  of  our 
age,  the  material  of  our  reflection,  and  the  inspira 
tion  of  our  progress  towards  the  stars, — the  secret 
fountains  of  good  literature,  whence  the  soul  draws 
vigor  only  upon  diligent  quest,  must  be  unsought 
(for  who  does,  or  who  can  find  time  for  this,  if  his 
restless  thirst  for  knowledge  is  momentarily  allayed 
by  these  trickling  way-side  rills  ?) — as  if  this  were  not 
quite  enough  to  disorder  the  faculties  and  to  enervate 
the  strength  of  the  general  mind, — still  more, — in  the 
indulgence  of  a  growing  venality,  many,  certainly  not 


THE    DAILY   PRESS.  101 

all,  must  lend  themselves  to  purposes  of  popular  de 
ception,  notorious  to  the  well-informed  ;  and  if  they  do 
not  themselves  dress  up  falsehood,  yet  allow  her  to  be 
so  arrayed  at  the  foot  of  their  own  tribunal,  and 
thence  issue  forth  in  the  stolen  habiliments  of  truth, 
— making-  her  thus  appear  sectarian  and  factious,  who 
ought  to  be  universal, — consenting  to  the  irresponsible 
creation  and  announcement  of  a  thousand  narrow, 
partizan,  and  yet  extravagant  reputations,  truly  bub 
bles, — and  selling  incalculable  mischief  for  a  paltry 
consideration, — until,  at  length,  in  the  very  nature  of 
the  case,  a  sort  of  conventional  condition  of  things 
would  be  likely  to  grow  up, — so  that  neither  would 
the  editor  be  expected  to  mean  what  he  alleged,  nor 
would  anybody,  but  the  unsuspicious,  be  expected  so 
to  understand  him, — and  nothing  would  be  so  var 
nished  and  insincere  as  newspaper  praise, — nothing  so 
truly  fictitious,  as  a  wide-spread  literary  reputation, 
when  it  had  been  thus  gained,  and,  at  length,  the  gen 
eral  and  apparently  spontaneous  laudation  of  the  press 
might  be  almost  assumed  to  be  a  general  conspiracy 
for  public  fraud. 

Indeed,  one  would  seem,  sometimes,  almost  driven 
to  the  conclusion,  that  newspapers  conceive  it  their 
business  to  praise  most  those  books,  which  undoubt 
edly  need  the  most  charitable  consideration  of  their 
character  ;  and  that  the  critical  opinion  expressed,  is 
not  so  much  the  result  of  a  fair  judgment  of  the 
9* 


102  THE   USES   AND    ABUSES   OF 

merits,  as  it  is  evidence  of  some  morbid  sympathy, 
touched  by  the  very  defects  of  the  production.  A 
well-regulated  and  truthful  mind  will  accord  praise 
only  to  deserving  objects.  One  which  is  ill-regulated 
is  little  disposed  to  admit  the  claims  of  anything, 
which  is  superior  to  its  own  capacity  ;  but  rather  flat 
ters  its  own  self-estimate,  perhaps,  in  bestowing  com 
pliments  upon  whatever  it  accounts  inferior  to  itself ; 
because,  in  the  latter  instance,  its  native  vanity  is  not 
necessarily  lowered.  And  sometimes,  we  may  fear, 
that,  in  this  world  of  ours,  men  endeavor  to  escape  the 
contempt  to  which  they  are  themselves  subject,  by 
striving  to  debase  others  to  their  own  level. 

Besides,  in  order  to  exercise  criticism  justly,  judg 
ment,  taste  and  skill,  as  well  as  a  mind  open  to  fair 
impressions,  are  essential,  while  none  of  these  quali 
ties  are  requisite,  to  enable  the  writer  to  pile  up  elab 
orate  generalizations  of  praise.  The  consequence 
is,  that  the  latter  style  of  remark  is  often  employed, 
in  these  vehicles,  when  the  editor  knows  not  what  else 
to  say ;  and,  frequently,  commendation  is  so  lavished 
upon  unworthy  objects,  that  a  just  and  reasonable  ex 
pression  of  approbation,  of  a  really  meritorious,  useful 
and  valuable  work,  would  seem  almost  like  censure 
itself,  it  falls  so  much  below  the  exaggerated  and  ex 
travagant  criterion  of  ordinary  encomium.  For  truth 
and  excellence  these  newspapers,  as  we  would  bene 
volently  conclude,  often  appear  to  imagine,  can  take 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  103 

care  of  themselves, — and  so  they  leave  them  to  the 
chances  of  good  or  ill-fortune ;  while  every  veritable 
imposture  really  seems  to  elicit  all  their  good  offices ; 
and  they  assist  it  to  puff  and  swell  itself  up  into  a 
vain  show,  and  thus  to  deceive  the  populace,  which  of 
itself  is  sufficiently  resolved  on  being  deceived.  And 
they  thus  forget  or  betray  the  doctrine  of  a  sentiment, 
as  wise  and  useful  now,  as  when  it  was  first  pro 
nounced —  Virtus  rectorem,  ducemque  dcsidcrat,  vitia 
sine  magistro  discuntur. 

These  opinions  may  seem  bold, — but  they  would 
require  much  more  firmness  for  their  expression,  if 
the  more  intelligent  and  well-disposed  of  the  class 
indicated  were  not  already  sensible  of  great  defects 
and  evils,  of  this  and  other  descriptions,  in  the  man 
agement  of  newspapers, — and  if  these  ordinary  means 
of  public  information  and  enlightenment  were  not 
already  groaning  under  many  burdens  of  this  sort, 
which  they  know  not  how  to  lift, — and  if  I  did  not 
feel  confident,  that  all  the  honest  conductors  of  the 
press  will  rejoice  in  whatever  shall  do  something 
towards  their  relief,  by  directing  public  attention  to  a 
great  and  growing  mischief,  in  the  correction  of  which 
the  public  is  so  deeply  interested. 

Is  there  any  remedy  for  this  evil  ?  To  the  honor 
of  whatever  is  best  in  society,  be  it  said,  that,  although 
vast  mischiefs,  already  existing,  owe  their  origin  and 
their  continuance  to  the  unbridled  license,  the  indis- 


104  THE   USES   AND  ABUSES   OF 

cretion  and  the  ignorance  and  falsity  of  a  portion  of 
the  press, — that,  though  by  their  means  feverish  ex 
citements  have  been  fanned,  leading  to  deadly  disor 
ders  in  the  body  politic  and  social, — though  from  this 
source  the  minds  of  the  young  have  been  poisoned, 
the  peace  of  families  has  been  destroyed,  the  authority 
of  wisdom,  virtue  and  experience  set  at  naught,  the 
purity  of  life  polluted,  and  a  flippant,  mocking,  dis 
believing  spirit  sent  current  into  the  ordinary  avenues 
of  the  community — yet  the  growing  indifference  to 
the  opinions  of  newspapers,  once  carrying  weight  and 
authority, — not  to  be  ascertained,  perhaps,  by  the 
statistics  of  their  circulation,  but  in  the  fact,  that  the 
public  look  to  them,  more  and  more,  as  mere  matters 
of  amusement  and  vehicles  of  ordinary  intelligence, 
— shows  that  society  will  demand  something  more 
reliable,  and  suggests  to  them  the  necessity  of  a  more 
judicious  management  and  a  more  elevated  tone.  I 
am  not  willing,  for  one,  to  pay  a  servile  homage  to 
the  formal  or  informal  dissertations  of  a  newspaper, 
written,  as  I  happen  to  know,  by  a  certain  definable 
individual,  perhaps,  an  acquaintance  or  friend,  whose 
capacity  and  standard  may  be  accurately  guaged, 
although  he  may  be  supposed  to  represent,  and  may 
misrepresent,  the  opinions  of  any  sect,  or  clique,  or 
combination.  But  I  respect  his  calling, — I  value  his 
opportunities  of  usefulness, — I  honor  and  prize  his 
power  to  disseminate  valuable  information,  and  the 


THE    DAILY   PRESS.  105 

vast  capacity  of  his  means  to  promote  that  true  aim 
of  all  rational  society, — a  community  of  good-feeling, 
intelligence  and  virtue.  Him  I  personally  esteem 
more  than  ordinary  men, — his  press  I  hold  as  a  just 
exemplification  of  the  choicest  blessing  of  human 
invention, — when  he  honestly  dedicates  his  abilities 
to  this  beneficent  purpose,  and  speeds  the  winged 
messengers  of  thought  upon  so  charitable  a  mission. 

When  I  consider  how  fluctuating  is  public  opinion, 
— how  readily  popular  sentiment  may  be  raised  or 
depressed,  by  the  operation  of  external  influences 
brought  steadily  and  continuously  to  bear  upon  it, 
and  how  much  the  cause  of  true  knowledge  and  true 
freedom  is  dependent  upon  the  current  expression  of 
public  thought, — I  could  wish,  if  it  were  possible,  that 
some  higher  standard  might  be  contrived  by  human 
ingenuity,  for  the  authorized  tone  of  newspaper  specu 
lation.  If  it  be  assumed,  that  the  march  of  human 
events  is  to  place  society  eventually  in  a  more  elevated 
position,  than  it  has  heretofore  attained, — since,  obvi 
ously,  this  could  be  the  result  only  of  its  intellectual 
and  moral  advancement, — that  is,  of  the  higher  con 
trol  conquered  by  our  supersensible  faculties  over  our 
material  nature, — it  follows,  that,  unless  the  means  of 
progress  are  really  of  a  character  calculated  to  pro 
mote,  rather  than  retard  an  event  so  desirable,  the 
position  is  itself  erroneous.  Taking  into  view,  there 
fore,  the  fact  of  the  extraordinary  circulation  secured 


106  THE   USES   AND   ABUSES   OF 

by  the  newspaper  press, — and  that,  by  its  demands 
upon  our  time,  and  by  means  of  its  creation  and 
encouragement  of  a  popular  taste,  it  has  contrived 
to  substitute  itself,  in  a  great  measure,  for  former 
sources  of  mental  refreshment  and  discipline, — the 
writings  of  poets,  orators,  philosophers  and  historians, 
— whose  speculations  arc  concerned  about  the  essen 
tial  elements  of  life,  and  whose  works  are  approved 
by  the  deliberate  judgment  of  mankind, — it  becomes 
us  to  inquire,  if  this  new  instrument  of  progress  be 
in  advance,  or  belli] id, — above  or  below,  the  actual 
necessities  of  the  times.  Are  those,  who,  by  the  force 
of  circumstances,  have  gained  this  extraordinary  facil 
ity  of  intercourse  with  the  masses  of  the  community, 
entitled  to  their  preeminent  advantages  of  influence, 
upon  their  merits  and  their  honor, — adding  living 
stones,  day  by  day,  to  the  growing  structure,  which  is 
eventually  to  constitute  the  perfect  and  completed 
edifice  of  human  good  ?  Or,  arc  they  pursuing, — as 
neither  poets,  orators,  philosophers  or  historians,  who 
have  acquired  any  permanent  fame,  have  ever  done, 
— a  temporizing  policy,  likely  to  accelerate  the  down 
ward  impulse  of  general  deterioration  ? 

If  we  rely  upon  newspapers,  instead  of  thinking  for 
ourselves,  we  have  really  constituted  a  numerous 
body  of  public  instructors,  leading  public  sentiment, 
moulding  public  morals,  forming  public  and  private 
character,  effecting  great  changes  in  our  social  condi- 


THE   DAILY   PRESS.  107 

tion,  working  to  some  end,  and,  therefore,  undermin 
ing,  if  they  arc  not  strengthening,  the  foundations  of 
our  civil  rights  ;  and  it  is  high  time  public  attention 
were  awakened  to  the  fact.  But  why  should  not 
those,  who  are  to  educate  the  people,  be  themselves 
educated,  for  the  public  service,  upon  the  public  re 
sponsibility  ?  For  education,  by  which  is  meant  the 
complete  training  of  the  mind,  and,  if  you  please, 
the  body, — though  it  renders  no  man  perfect, — does 
tend  to  the  enlargement  of  his  faculties  and  the  eleva 
tion  of  his  soul, — so  that  they,  who  come  from  the 
select  company  of  those,  who,  in  all  ages,  have  digni 
fied  and  glorified  the  condition  of  manhood,  are  less 
susceptible  of  mean  views, — less  liable  to  petty  temp 
tations, — less  easily  controlled  and  led  away,  by  the 
madness  of  the  populace  demanding  infamous  com 
pliances.  I  am  sure,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  a  col 
lege,  or  a  commission  established,  to  settle  upon  a 
firmer  and  fairer  basis  the  theory  of  editorial  qualifi 
cations, — not  certainly  rendering  such  training  indis 
pensable,  because  this  might  be  to  erect  a  censorship, 
dangerously  interfering  with  the  just  exercise  of  popu 
lar  liberty, — but  to  raise  the  standard  of  instruction, 
in  ethics,  as  well  as  in  learning,  amongst  those,  whose 
duty  and  whose  privilege  it  is  to  teach.  I  know  not 
why,  in  this  way,  the  whole  corps  editorial,  like  the 
learned  professions,  in  this  and  all  other  civilized 
countries,  might  not  eventually  and  safely  be  placed, 
under  the  guidance  and  protection  of  the  law.  Is 


108          THE  USES  AND  ABUSES  OF 

such  an  idea  impracticable  or  inexpedient  ?  Or,  is  it 
not  rather  an  object  of  the  clearest  common  concern, 
that  the  requirements  of  this  profession  should  be 
such,  as  to  warrant  its»  pretensions  to  be  ranked 
amongst  the  highest  intellectual  pursuits,  and  so  to 
make  its  influence  as  beneficial,  as  it  is  already  widely 
extensive  ?  We  establish  schools,  under  the  law,  and 
with  suitable  regulations,  for  the  purpose  of  convert 
ing  boys  and  girls  into  such  men  and  women,  as  shall 
adorn  and  bless  society, — and  I  see  not  how  this  great 
public  school  of  morals  and  of  knowledge  should  fail 
of  converting  men  and  women  into  children  again, 
unless  a  corrector  public  sentiment  should  regulate 
its  license,  and  give  the  spur  to  a  more  honorable 
ambition. 

I  sincerely  trust,  that  none  of  those,  whom  I  have 
had  the  honor  to  address,  this  evening,  will  have  mis 
apprehended  the  true  scope  of  my  views,  or  the  just 
nature  of  my  motives.  I  know  not  how  any  abuse 
can  stand  a  chance  of  reformation,  unless  it  be  fairly 
and  freely  presented  to  the  public  ordeal,  and  brought 
to  the  test  of  that  judgment,  often  momentarily  erro 
neous,  seldom  wilfully  and  permanently  perverse.  I 
have  not  discharged  a  duty,  which  many  might  con 
sider  thankless  and  even  invidious, — so  much  are  we 
the  slaves  of  opinion, — because  I  look  upon  the  Press, 
taking  its  abuses,  together  with  what  it  has  of  enlight 
ened  and  legitimate  action,  as  anything  else,  than  the 
most  available  and  indispensable  common  instrument 


THE   DAILY   PEESS.  109 

of  human  progress, — but  because  I  would  see  it  shake 
off  some  of  its  modern  vices,  and  reinstate  itself  in 
public  confidence,  and  grow  with  it  to  a  nobler  stat 
ure,  by  a  j  uster  and  more  generous  administration  of 
its  powers.     My  only  fear  is,  that  I  have  been  unable 
to  do  the  work  proposed,  even  if  it  were  in  my  power 
at  all,  so  thoroughly  as  I  had  hoped,  within  the  lim 
ited  compass  of  a  single  lecture.     I  have  expressed 
these  opinions,  because  I  entertain  them.     I  do  not 
know,  that  any  one  has  undertaken  formally  to  pre 
sent  the  subject  in  this  light  before.     I  have  consulted 
no  authority  and  have  read  no  book.     My  views,  such 
as  they  arc,  are  the  result  of  some  experience  and 
means  of  observation,  and  of  a  great  deal  of  inevita 
ble  reflection.     I  seek  only  for  the  press,  that  it  may 
be  entitled  to  a  higher  honor,  and  enjoy  a  wider  sphere 
of  usefulness.     I  would  have  it,  therefore,  manly, 
vigorous,   thoughtful,   generous,   elevated,  just   and 
sincere.     Upon  this  mature  development  of  its  char 
acter  will  very  much  depend  its  future  influence  upon 
popular  sentiment ;  and  it  is  the  manifestation  of  this 
sentiment,  which  is  to  advance  or  retard  the  substan 
tial  improvement  of  mankind. 

NOTE. — While  this  volume  is  going  to  press,  the  author  makes  the 
following  extract  from  a  leading  New  York  paper,  the  application  of 
which  to  his  whole  subject  is  obvious.  "  Party-spirit  pervades  nearly 
the  whole  press, — religious  as  well  as  secular ;  and  every  paper,  in  the 
interest  of  any  party,  whether  moral,  ecclesiastical  or  political,  resorts 
to  devices  for  promoting  its  ends,  which  a  rigid  judgment  would  prob 
ably  be  compelled  to  regard  as  immoral." 
10 


MR.    MACAULAY 


WARREN     HASTINGS 


IT  is  now  more  than  forty  years  ago,  since  two 
young  Americans,  who  at  that  period  happened  to 
be  in  London,  amongst  other  objects  of  curiosity  and 
interest,  were  induced  to  visit  Lansdownc-House,  then 
the  town-residence  of  the  Marquis  of  Lansdownc,  well- 
known,  in  his  day,  in  the  circles  of  politics  and  letters. 
It  is  understood,  that  the  show-palaces  of  the  English 
nobility  are  to  be  seen  by  strangers,  only  in  the  ab 
sence  of  their  proprietors ;  and,  in  the  present  in 
stance,  the  owner  had  been  some  time  absent,  at 
some  one  of  his  residences  in  the  country.  Ac 
cordingly,  the  Americans  were  introduced  into  the 
house  ;  and,  in  the  course  of  their  perambulation  of 
the  premises  and  inspection  of  library  and  paintings, 
were  conducted  to  an  apartment,  containing  only  two 
pictures.  One  of  these  every  American  would  at 
once  recognize,  as  the  unmistakable  portrait  of  the 
Father  of  his  Country ;  the  other  proved  to  be  the 
counterfeit  presentment  of  a  personage,  then  scarcely 


112  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

less  known  to  fame  ;  and  was,  in  fact,  the  portrait  of 
Warren  Hastings,  for  many  years,  the  Governor-gen 
eral  of  India.  It  so  happened,  however,  that,  during 
their  visit,  Lord  Lansdowne  unexpectedly  returned  to 
town,  and,  understanding  that  there  were  strangers 
examining  the  house,  courteously  proceeded  to  the 
room,  where  our  young  friends  were  engaged ;  and 
entering  into  conversation  with  them,  informed  them, 
that  he  appropriated  this  privileged  apartment  to 
these  two  pictures  alone,  as  being  the  portraits  of  the 
two  greatest  men  he  had  ever  known. 

The  Americans  said  nothing ;  and,  as  that  was  not 
the  age  of  "  free  discussion,"  felt,  perhaps,  that  it 
might  be  uncivil  to  call  in  question  even  the  most 
eccentric  fancies  of  a  gentleman,  in  his  own  house. 
But  the  saying  sank  deep  into  their  memory  ;  and 
when  one  of  the  parties,  some  time  since,  gave  me 
the  particulars  of  the  adventure,  it  struck  my  mind, 
I  must  confess,  as  a  thing  of  peculiar  incongruity. 
Washington  and  Warren  Hastings!  The  savior  of 
his  country — and  the  desolator  of  an  oppressed  and 
ruined  people  !  This  one,  the  living  spirit  of  all  that 
is  known  as  truth,  wisdom,  honor,  moderation  and 
integrity  in  man, — that  one,  the  cruel  and  unjust 
tool  of  a  grasping  and  insatiable  avarice  !  This  man, 
at  the  close  of  all  his  patient  and  heroic  toils,  in  the 
great  struggle,  to  which  his  own  prudence  and  brave 
policy,  by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  had  brought  sue- 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  113 

cess, — claiming  no  reward  of  his  country,  and  ac 
cepting  only  the  bare  repayment  of  so  much,  as  he 
had  expended,  from  his  own  fortune,  in  her  service  ; 
the  other,  rioting  upon  extorted  bribes,  and  return 
ing  from  the  land,  which  his  injustice  had  made 
wretched,  to  receive,  in  charity,  at  last,  the  means  of 
sustaining  his  prolonged  existence,  from  the  coffers 
which  had  been  so  often  replenished  by  his  own  wick 
edness  !  The  one,  retiring  from  the  cares  of  public 
life,  amidst  the  grateful  tears  of  a  reluctant  people, 
followed  by  the  admiration  of  the  Avorld  and  secure 
of  the  benedictions  of  posterity ;  the  other,  disgrace 
fully  recalled  from  the  distant  world,  where  his 
crimes  had  made  the  name  of  Englishman  a  scourge 
and  a  dread ;  met,  upon  his  native  shore,  by  the  exe 
crations  of  the  populace  and  the  stern  rebuke  of  the 
highest,  the  brightest  and  the  purest  spirits  of  his 
country's  glorious  days  ;  impeached  by  the  Commons 
of  England,  in  the  name  of  the  people  whom  he  had 
wronged,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  humanity  which  he 
had  outraged ;  and  after  a  trial,  enduring  for  a  longer 
series  of  years  than  that,  within  which  his  compa 
triot  of  Lansdowne-House  had  achieved  the  liber 
ties  of  the  republic, — finally  escaping,  amidst  the  ter 
giversations  of  political  factions,  the  wearisomeness  of 
protracted  justice,  and  the  influence  of  a  spirit,  which 
submitted  to  prefer  interest  to  honor — and  could  not 
well  preserve  its  consistency  by  condemning  the  cul- 
10* 


114  MB.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

prit,   after   it    had    accepted    and    appropriated   his 
bribe. 

The  anecdote,  which  I  have  just  detailed,  was 
brought  forcibly  to  my  recollection,  in  reading,  some 
time  since,  the  brilliant  and  seductive  article  of  Mr. 
Macaulay,  upon  the  character  and  administration  of 
Hastings.  The  subject,  considered  in  its  connections, 
is  one  of  vast  importance,  inasmuch  as  it  relates  to 
the  commencement  and  extension  of  British  power  in 
Asia,  and  the  influence  of  this  domination  upon  the 
interests,  the  morals  and  the  happiness  of  the  world. 
But  the  Essay  of  Mr.  Macaulay,  with  all  its  elaborate 
splendor  of  diction  and  graphic  profusion  of  illustra 
tion,  did  not  satisfy  my  judgment,  for  precisely  the 
same  reason,  that  the  juxtaposition  of  the  portraits  of 
Washington  and  Hastings  did  not  coincide  with  the 
preconceptions  of  the  young  Americans  at  Lansdownc- 
House.  To  estimate  the  character  of  an  individual, 
by  setting  his  vices  in  parallel  with  his  abilities  and 
their  unscrupulous  exercise  for  the  acquisition  of  do 
minion  and  riches,  for  himself  or  others,  may  indeed 
tend  to  dazzle  and  bewilder  the  imagination.  But 
when  we  come  to  compare  such  a  man  with  him,  who 
has  devoted  his  powers  to  the  unquestionable  benefit 
of  his  race,  or,  which  is  better,  to  try  him  by  the  un 
erring  standard  of  truth  and  justice  itself,  the  fallacy 
becomes  apparent  to  the  most  cursory  apprehension. 
It  cannot  be  denied,  that  the  world  is  not  too  apt  to 


ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  115 

make  the  necessary  and  reasonable  distinction  be 
tween  the  uses  of  great  ability,  accordingly  as  it  is 
well  or  ill  employed  ;  or  to  remember  that  the  sole 
legitimate  purpose,  as  well  as  the  only  merit  of 
knowledge,  consists  in  the  enlargement  of  virtue ;  and 
if  we  could  but  escape  subjection  to  that  inverse  rule 
of  morals,  by  which  the  world  calls  "  good  evil  and 
evil  good,"  we  might  demand,  that  the  highest  intel 
lect  should  be  but  the  measure  and  standard  of  the 
most  consummate  goodness.  In  the  Court  of  Heav 
en,  we  know  that  the  perversion  of  talents  is  to  be 
regarded  criminal,  in  proportion  to  their  amount  and 
superiority.  At  the  tribunal  of  worldly  judgment, 
the  very  possession  of  distinguished  powers  is  too 
often  looked  upon  as  a  sufficient  palliation  for  their 
abuse. 

I  shall  not  allege,  that  the  Essay  of  Mr.  Macaulay 
is  in  any  sense  a  panegyric.  He  professes,  indeed, 
to  assume  the  attitude  of  an  impartial  judge.  He 
neither  imitates  the  miserable  adulation  of  Mr.  Gleig, 
whose  Biography  of  Hastings  he  reviews ;  nor  is  he 
stirred  up  to  the  just  severity,  honestly  exhibited  by 
Mill,  in  his  History  of  British  India.  He  pretends  to 
deprecate,  on  the  one  hand,  any  deference  to  that 
caprice  of  popular  favor,  which  induced  the  House  of 
Commons  in  1813,  to  rise  up  in  honor  of  a  man,  who, 
twenty-seven  years  before,  had  escaped  the  punish 
ment  of  his  crimes,  through  the  technicalities  of  the 


116  MR.  MACAULAY  ON  WAREEN  HASTINGS. 

law ;  and,  on  the  other,  Mr.  Burke's  spirit  of  indig 
nant  denunciation,  which  compelled  Hastings  himself 
to  acknowledge,  at  the  close  of  one  of  those  terrible 
philippics,  that  he  "  felt  himself  to  be  the  most  guilty 
man  alive," — "until,"  he  continued,  "he  appealed 
to  his  conscience  and  was  reassured."  But  besides 
the  advancement  of  occasional  theories  in  morals, 
adapted,  it  is  to  be  feared,  rather  to  the  vitiated  taste 
of  the  times,  than  to  the  requirements  of  the  eternal 
rule  of  right,  there  is  a  dazzling  series  of  picturesque 
descriptions,  and  a  display  of  gorgeous  scenery,  more 
like  the  allurements  of  romance,  than  homely  and 
natural  truth,  and  all  so  clothed  in  a  veil  of  enchant 
ing  language,  that  it  is  difficult  to  separate  the  char 
acter  of  the  freebooter  from  his  successes  and  to  re 
member,  as  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion,  that  it  is, 
after  all,  like  dragging  a  criminal,  in  a  triumphal  car 
to  the  place  of  his  execution,  and  crowning  with  fruit 
less  laurels  the  head,  which,  the  next  moment,  is  to 
find  its  brotherhood  with  the  clod. 

And  this,  in  truth,  is  the  chief  subject  of  complaint 
against  Mr.  Macaulay.  Not,  that  he  does  not  rebuke 
with  sufficient  severity  some  of  those  instances  of  the 
conduct  of  Hastings,  which,  indeed,  could  admit  of 
no  defence ;  nor,  that  he  leaves  entirely  out  of  his 
account  many  of  the  more  flagrant  examples  of  cruel 
and  rapacious  injustice,  which  signalized  his  adminis 
tration  ;  but  that  he  covers  up  truth  with  sophistical 


ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  117 

extenuation ;  that  he  palliates  infamy  by  the  enforce 
ments  of  expediency ;  that  he  admits  his  hero  to  have 
resolved  deliberately  upon  the  accomplishment  of  evil 
purposes,  and  then  urges  the  necessity  of  evil  means, 
in  order  to  secure  success  ;  that,  while  he  leads  the 
careful  reader  almost  to  apprehend  some  deficiency 
in  the  moral  perceptions  of  the  brilliant  essayist,  he 
leaves  the  less  discriminating,  at  least  in  doubt,  wheth 
er  Hastings,  though  unquestionably  guilty  of  grave 
offences,  was  not,  on  the  whole,  a  persecuted  and  in 
jured  man;  that  he  seems  to  justify  a  conclusion, 
that  the  world  has  wasted  much  declamation,  for 
some  thousands  of  years,  against  mercenary  and  am 
bitious  conquest;  and  bewilders  us  onwards  to  the 
treacherous  inference,  that  even  he  may  be  deserving 
of  admiration,  if  not  respect,  whose  only  claim  to 
merit,  upon  his  own  showing,  consisted  in  extending 
British  dominion  over  a  country,  to  which  she  had 
not  the  shadow  of  a  right,  and  in  transmitting  to  his 
employers  immense  treasures,  obtained  constantly  by 
means,  for  which  even  Hastings  himself  does  not  pre 
tend  to  set  up  any  defence. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  purpose,  to  enter  upon  any  de 
tailed  account  of  this  remarkable  man.  A  dreaming 
and  romantic  boy,  at  his  native  village  of  Daylesford, 
there  mingled  with  his  earliest  reflections  the  resolu 
tion  to  recover  those  paternal  possessions,  with  which 
his  impoverished  ancestors  had  been  compelled  to 


118  MB.  MACAULAY  ON   WAKREN   HASTINGS. 

part ;  and  this  idea,  which  he  never  lost  sight  of,  until 
its  final  realization,  together  with  the  hope  of  reviving 
an  extinguished  family  title,  afford  a  plausible  key  to 
much  of  his  subsequent  career.  At  a  very  early  age 
he  was  admitted  to  the  civil  service  of  the  East  India 
Company.  By  the  exertion  of  his  extraordinary  en 
dowments  and  the  fortunate  concurrence  of  events,  he 
was  soon  raised  to  a  post  of  great  trust  and  emolu 
ment.  One  of  the  earliest  incidents  in  his  political 
life,  not  even  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Macaulay,  was  his 
intervention,  as  interpreter,  in  an  infamous  plot,  con 
trived  between  some  of  the  English  agents  and  cer 
tain  native  functionaries,  for  the  deposition  of  one 
prince  and  the  assassination  of  another.  As  all  the 
revolutions,  which  were  brought  about  in  India,  were 
promoted  for  the  acquisition  of  money, — besides  the 
incidental  benefit  to  the  parties  concerned,  the  Com 
pany  eventually  realized  between  £200,000  and 
£300,000  by  this  creditable  transaction.  When, 
some  time  afterwards,  a  report  of  its  character  was 
brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Directors  in  London, 
they  transmitted  orders  to  the  Council  for  its  investi 
gation.  This  board  consisted  of  three  individuals,  of 
whom  Hastings  was  one.  His  connection  with  the 
business  seemed  to  disqualify  him  for  the  position  of 
a  judge.  In  order  to  remove  this  impediment,  Mr. 
Hastings  prepared  a  statement,  in  which  he  alleged, 
that  he  did  not  recollect  acting  as  interpreter,  and 


MR.  MACAULAY  ON  WARREN  HASTINGS.  119 

that  he  thought  he  should  remember  it,  if  he  had,  in 
fact,  been  present  in  that  capacity.  Nor  can  we,  on 
our  part,  doubt,  that  he  must  easily  have  recalled  the 
particulars  of  transactions  so  important,  occurring 
within  the  previous  two  or  three  years.  To  corrobo 
rate  the  account  given  by  Hastings,  another  of  the 
accomplices,  who,  while  the  transaction  was  fresh, 
had  made  affidavit  that  Hastings  did  so  act,  now 
recalled  his  foraner  statement,  and  affirmed  that  he 
conceived  he  must  have  been  mistaken,  in  his  original 
deposition,  and  believed,  that  he  himself  was  in  reality 
the  interpreter  on  the  occasion  in  question.  The 
Council,  thus  conveniently  composed,  constituted  the 
tribunal,  which  was  to  judge  of  the  weight  of  the  pre 
cious  testimony  submitted  for  the  mutual  exculpa 
tion.  In  fact,  the  recollections  of  the  whole  party 
became  finally  extremely  indistinct,  and  they  thus 
proceeded,  with  clear  judgment,  to  the  honorable 
acquittal  of  all  persons  concerned ! 

The  period  elapsing,  between  the  retirement  of 
Olive  and  the  accession  of  Hastings  to  the  Presidency 
of  Bengal,  exhibited  that  country  in  an  aspect,  which 
had  never  before  been  witnessed,  on  such  a  scale,  in 
the  history  of  the  world.  There  was  literally  nothing 
like  civil  government  throughout  its  territories.  The 
native  Prince,  who  still  retained  his  title  and  every 
show  of  outward  respect,  possessed  not  even  the 
slightest  shadow  of  authority.  The  English  power, 


120  MR.  MACAULAY  ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

which,  commencing  with  the  establishment  of  an  in 
significant  trading-fort  and  factory,  at  Calcutta,  had 
seized,  on  what  might,  perhaps,  be  considered  some 
reasonable  pretext,  to  secure  the  mastery  of  the  pro 
vince,  still  submitted  to  the  style  of  '  vassals  of  the 
throne  of  Delhi ;'  and  the  Council,  which  represented 
the  Company  at  home,  employed  its  energies  almost 
entirely  upon  negotiations  for  the  benefit  and  further 
ance  of  trade.  With  no  constitution,  therefore,  or 
form  of  civil  government,  or  system  of  recognized 
law;  indeed, without  any  responsible  political  head, 
since  the  supreme  authority,  which  existed  at  the 
council-board,  was  altogether  devoted  to  the  require 
ments  of  mercantile  affairs,  rather  than  to  the  admin 
istration  of  justice,  it  is  not  strange  that  unheard-of 
abuses  and  excesses  ravaged  and  desolated  the  land. 
The  natives  dared  not  resist  the  most  unwarrantable 
assumptions.  Every  Englishman,  in  fact,  did  not 
what  was  right,  but  what  seemed  most  profitable  in 
his  own  eyes.  Trade,  instead  of  a  just  and  honorable 
commerce,  for  the  mutual  benefit,  became  a  system  of 
thorough  and  unscrupulous  pillage.  And,  as  no 
foreigner  resided  in  India,  except  for  the  purpose  of 
amassing  a  fortune,  the  infamous  rapidity,  with  which 
this  object  could  be  effected,  rather  than  any  consider 
ation  of  the  just  means,  was  the  ruling  principle  of 
all  classes  of  Europeans,  throughout  this  unhappy 
land.  It  is  matter  of  eternal  and  indelible  disgrace 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  121 

to  the  English  name,  that,  for  a  scries  of  fifteen  years, 
from  1756,  the  commencement  of  British  domination 
in  Asia,  to  the  accession  of  Hastings,  in  1771,  such 
remained  the  true  condition  of  this  wretched  and  dis 
tracted  country.  The  issue  of  that  revolution,  which 
had  secured  the  rights  of  conquest  to  an  enlightened 
and  Christian  nation,  imposed  upon  it  equally  the 
duties  of  moral  government  and  the  establishment  of 
civil  polity.  And  if  the  very  peculiarities  of  this  sin 
gular  people,  and  those  deep-rooted  prejudices,  which, 
deducing  their  origin  in  some  remote  period  of  undis 
covered  antiquity,  had  preserved  their  personal  habits 
and  their  social  organization  the  same,  under  every 
influx  of  foreign  invasion  and  through  successive 
internal  revolutions,  in  spite  of  Mussulman  bigotry 
and  the  intermixture  of  a  hundred  races,  in  defiance 
alike  of  the  Mahometan  sword  and  the  more  peaceful 
weapons  of  the  Christian  church  militant ;  if  these 
things  rendered  them  less  likely  to  be  readily  influ 
enced  even  by  the  highest  exemplification  of  princi 
ples,  which  our  religion  professes  as  its  plainest  duties, 
— one  thing  is  certain,  they  had  become  dependent  on 
their  invaders,  and  were  entitled  to  protection  in  the 
common  rights,  and  to  security  for  the  ordinary  privi 
leges  of  humanity.  Almost  all  conquerors,  in  every 
stage  of  society,  appear  to  have  had  some  compunc 
tions  upon  this  subject.  They  have  established  law, 
at  least  for  the  maintenance  of  their  own  authority, 
11 


122  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARRP]N   HASTINGS. 

if  not  for  the  direct  benefit  of  those  whom  they  have 
subdued.  The  very  Tamerlane  himself,  who,  three 
hundred  and  fifty  years  before,  had  founded  on  con 
quest  in  India  that  great  Mogul  Empire,  the  legal  do 
minion  of  which  the  English  in  Bengal  acknowledged, 
at  least,  in  name, — had  endeavored,  in  some  measure, 
to  cultivate,  in  peace,  those  principles  of  public  and 
private  conduct,  without  which  peace  itself  never  can 
be  desirable.  And  of  the  volume,  called  the  "  In 
stitutions  of  Tamerlane,"  which  he  left,  as  a  sacred 
legacy  to  his  posterity,  Mr.  Burke  declares,  that  he 
believes  "  there  is  not  a  book  in  the  world,  which  con 
tains  nobler,  more  just,  more  manly,  more  pious  prin 
ciples  of  government."  Abused  and  perverted  it  had 
undoubtedly  been  ;  but  unfortunately  we  need  not 
travel  so  far,  as  to  India  within  the  Ganges,  for  exam 
ples  of  violated  constitutions  and  outraged  laws.  At 
all  events,  the  English  were  bound  to  provide  their 
subjects,  with  a  system  as  salutary,  as  that  which  they 
had  broken  in  pieces.  And  if  they  had  indeed  done 
so,  the  announcement  of  Christian  doctrine  might 
have  been  much  more  efficacious,  than  after  every 
prejudice  had  been  enlisted,  every  hostile  feeling 
engendered,  and  the  manners  of  the  people  had  be 
come  tenfold  more  corrupted,  under  every  experience 
of  plunder  and  cruel  and  lawless  violence. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  disorder  and  insecurity, 
that    so    many    of   those    enormous    fortunes   were 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON    WARREN    HASTINGS.  123 

amassed,  which  made  a  proverb  of  the  titles,  as  well 
as  transferred  the  wealth  of  the  native  princes,  to 
the  crowds  of  Englishmen  in  India ;  that  so  many 
nabobs,  so  called,  returned  home,  with  consciences 
oftentimes  as  shattered  as  their  constitutions,  to  linger 
out  their  days,  amidst  those  spoils  of  extortion,  which 
they  had  no  longer  the  power  to  enjoy  ;  and  those 
magnificent  dreams  of  oriental  riches  were  indeed 
realized,  which  overloaded  a  few,  at  the  expense  of 
miserable  millions  of  mankind.  It  was  in  the  course 
of  these  and  a  few  succeeding  years,  that  the  immense 
amount  of  two  hundred  millions  of  dollars  was 
transported  from  the  one  country  to  the  other ;  and 
that  England,  before  this  time,  if  not  a  poor,  yet  far 
from  being  a  wealthy  country,  but  maintaining  its 
respectability  with  its  old  honest  independence,  and 
for  the  most  part  homely  and  virtuous,  became  daz 
zled  with  this  sudden  influx  of  riches  and  its  easy 
means  of  acquisition  ;  yielded  to  the  corrupt  influence 
of  a  general  profusion,  to  which  its  people  had  not 
been  accustomed  ;  and,  losing  much  principle  and 
self-respect,  in  the  countenance  not  withheld,  if  not 
cordially  extended  to  the  returning  nabobs,  the  pub 
lic  mind  became  at  length,  more  or  less  vitiated  ;  nor 
is  it  matter  of  vain  speculation,  to  infer,  that  the 
nation  is,  at  this  day,  struggling  in  consequence, 
under  many  of  the  just  and  unavoidable  evils,  which 
result  from  ill-gotten  wealth. 


124  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

But  if  such  was  the  condition  of  India,  at  the  time 
of  the  elevation  of  Hastings  to  the  Presidency  of 
Bengal,  certainly  never  was  a  fairer  field  displayed, 
for  the  exercise  of  his  splendid  abilities,  if  they  had 
been  directed  and  controlled  by  the  nobler  qualities 
of  human  nature.  A  wise  and  just  administration  of 
his  government  was  demanded  of  him,  no  less  by 
what  was  due  to  the  character  of  England,  than  by 
the  sufferings  of  the  people  of  Hindostan.  The  cries, 
which  so  long  had  appealed  to  the  mercies  of  the 
ever-opening  heavens  ;  the  evils,  which  seem  some 
times  to  be  permitted,  in  order  to  test  our  use  or 
abuse  of  the  faculties  with  which  we  arc  endowed, — 
had,  at  length,  extorted  counsels  and  orders  from  the 
Directors,  for  the  reformation  of  what  was  indeed  a 
scejie  of  almost  unmitigated  horrors.  Instead  of  this, 
his  administration  was  but  one  long  conflict  with  the 
better  spirit  of  his  colleagues  in  the  government ;  one 
continued  act  of  disobedience  to  the  directions,  if  not 
to  the  wishes  of  his  employers  at  home. 

Mr.  Macaiilay  crowns  his  final  encomium  of  the 
career  of  Hastings,  with  the  assertion  that  lie  "  found 
ed  a  polity."  It  would  be  a  more  just  judgment,  to 
aver,  that  he  extended  a  usurpation.  The  same 
conduct  of  affairs,  which  would  have  exposed  a 
private  citizen  to  the  general  execration  of  man 
kind,  exhibited  here  on  an  enlarged  scale,  carried 
forward  witli  unscrupulous  boldness  and  terminating 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON    WARREN    HASTINGS.  125 

in  complete  success, — if  it  lias  not  secured  Hastings 
from  the  obloquy  of  history,  has  given  his  name  a 
distinguished  place,  upon  that  doubtful  file,  at  which 
many  well-disposed  persons  are  willing  to  look,  with 
a  certain  indefinite  feeling  of  wonder  and  admira 
tion.  According  to  the  principles  of  worldly  judg 
ment,  in  its  most  worldly  sense,  Hastings  no  doubt 
acted  wisely,  in  the  course,  which  he  determined  to 
pursue.  He  knew  well,  that  men  do  not,  as  a  gen 
eral  rule,  more  strictly  enquire  into  the  moral  char 
acter  of  an  agent,  who  never  fails  to  furnish  them 
with  all  that  they  demand,  than  Aladdin,  in  the 
Arabian  Nights,  thought  of  questioning  the  legal 
authority  of  the  Genius  of  the  Lamp ;  and  he  con 
ceived  that  he  could  make  no  reply  so  satisfactory, 
to  the  reiterated  complaints  from  home,  on  the  sub 
ject  of  his  injustice  and  extortion,  as  the  liberal 
remittance  of  unquestionable  lacs  of  rupees.  Like 
the  Irish  absentee  landlord,  who  commands  his  factor 
not  to  rack-rent  his  tenants,  but  yet  insists  on  his 
immediate  occasion  for  a  thousand  pounds, — the 
Board  of  Directors  filled  their  letters  to  the  Governor- 
general,  with  various  weighty  resolutions  of  disappro 
bation,  and  issued  voluminous  homilies,  full  of  the 
most  virtuous  and  exemplary  remonstrance  ;  but  never 
failed  to  insinuate,  that  the  necessities  of  the  Company 
imperatively  demanded  a  fresh  supply  of  the  one 

indispensable  commodity  ! 
11* 


126  MR.  MACAULAY    ON   WARREN    HASTINGS. 

Mr.  Macaulay  conceives  Hastings  to  have  been 
thus  placed  in  a  situation  of  great  difficulty.  In  the 
embarrassed  condition  of  the  country  which  he  gov 
erned,  he  had  no  present  means  of  raising  money, 
except  by  robbery,  and  the  argument  is,  that  it  was, 
therefore,  necessary  for  him  to  turn  buccaneer.  But 
his  position,  in  fact,  required  him  to  make  his  elec 
tion,  between  his  true  duty  to  the  trusts  reposed 
in  him,  on  both  sides  of  the  great  ocean,  which 
separated  the  dependant  from  his  masters,  controlled 
by  his  duty  to  himself,  and  to  a  higher  Power,  of 
whom  he  seems  never  to  have  thought, — and  the 
commission  of  great  crimes.  "  He  had  no  choice 
left  him,"  observes  Mr.  Macaulay,  "  except  to  commit 
great  wrongs,  or  to  resign  all  his  hopes  of  fortune 
and  distinction."  To  a  really  honest  mind  there 
would,  of  course,  be  no  difficulty  in  making  the  elec 
tion.  To  a  mind,  constituted  like  that  of  Hastings, 
there  was  equally  no  difficulty,  for  he  evidently  never 
entertained  a  scruple  upon  the  subject.  His  principle 
of  action  is  well  laid  down  by  Mr.  Macaulay  himself. 
"  He  seems  to  have  held  it  a  fundamental  proposition, 
which  could  not  be  disputed,  that  when  he  had  not  as 
many  lacs  of  rupees  as  the  public  service  required,  he 
was  to  take  them  from  any  body  who  hud."  And 
again — "  The  rules  of  justice,  the  sentiments  of 
humanity,  the  plighted  faith  of  treaties,  were  in  his 
view  as  nothing,  when  opposed  to  the  immediate  in- 


MR.  MA  CAUL  AY    OX    WARREN    HASTINGS.  127 

terests  of  the  state."  But  even  allowing  that  the 
requirements  of  public  necessity  excuse,  if  they  do 
not  justify  much  occasional  wrong,  the  heartless 
depravity  of  such  principles  and  practices  does  not 
admit  of  the  extenuation  thus  sophistically  suggested  ; 
for  here  was  no  "  public  service,"  except  that  created 
to  gratify  the  grasping  avarice  of  Hastings  and  his 
employers,  and  the  necessities  of  the  Company  itself 
constituted  the  only  "  interests  of  the  state."  And  it 
would  be,  indeed,  difficult,  to  recall  many  distin 
guished  personages,  out  of  Bulwer's  novels,  who 
quite  come  up  to  the  deformity  of  character,  thus 
incidentally  developed  !  Cortez  we  might  instance, 
perhaps,  with  some  more  show  of  apology ;  Fizarro,  it 
would  be  safe  to  judge  a  better  man,  for  though  he 
too  robbed  and  murdered,  yet  he  regarded  the  hea 
thenish  Peruvians,  much  as  the  prophet  of  old  looked 
upon  Agag  and  the  company  of  Amalck  ;  and  if  he 
destroyed  cities  to-day,  he  founded  and  built  up  others 
to-morrow. 

The  passages  I  have  quoted  will  serve  to  justify 
Mr.  Macaulay,  in  an  occasional  moral  reflection  upon 
what  he  gently  styles  the  "  faults"  of  the  Governor- 
general,  almost  concealed,  as  they  are,  in  the  flowery 
emblazonment  of  his  career,  and  neutralized  by  the 
implied  approbation  of  his  eventful  life.  But  in  a 
government,  conducted  upon  motives  like  those  set 
forth,  the  excesses  and  barbarities,  by  which  it  was 


128  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

distinguished,  would  follow  as  the  necessary  and  un 
avoidable  consequence.  It  is  not  strange  that  these 
things  roused  the  eventual  indignation  of  English 
society,  which  is  something,  by  the  way,  never  to  be 
confounded,  in  that  country,  more  than  in  our  own, 
with  the  policy  of  the  government,  or  the  acts  of 
public  bodies  ;  nor  is  it  singular,  that  eventually  the 
offender  should  have  been  called  to  answer  for  his 
crimes,  while  there  was  anything  resembling  the 
common  attributes  of  morality,  justice  or  religion 
remaining  in  the  world. 

I  am  willing  to  make  every  reasonable  allowance 
for  the  peculiar  attitude  and  relations  of  the  public 
accusers  of  Hastings  and  their  principal  leader,  Mr. 
Burke ;  and  however  differences  may  exist,  as  to 
some  of  Mr.  Burkc's  political  speculations,  in  the 
estimation  of  friend  and  foe  alike,  few  men  have  ever 
lived  of  more  unblemished  purity  of  purpose  and 
more  perfect  integrity  of  mind  and  heart.  His  lan 
guage  upon  opening  the  charges  against  Hastings  is 
exceedingly  strong.  "  The  crimes,"  he  says  upon 
the  occasion  alluded  to,  "  which  we  charge  in  these 
articles  are  not  lapses,  defects,  errors  of  common 
human  frailty,  which,  as  we  know  and  feel,  we  can 
allow  for.  We  charge  this  offender  with  no  crimes, 
that  have  not  arisen  from  passions,  which  it  is  crimi 
nal  to  harbor ;  with  no  offences,  that  have  not  their 
root  in  avarice,  rapacity,  pride,  insolence,  ferocity, 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN    HASTINGS.  129 

treachery,  cruelty,  malignity  of  temper ;  in  short,  in 
nothing  that  does  not  argue  a  total  extinction  of  all 
moral  principle  ;  that  docs  not  manifest  an  inveterate 
blackness  of  heart,  dyed  in  grain  with  malice,  viti 
ated,  corrupted,  gangrened  to  the  very  core.  If  we 
do  not  plant  his  crimes  in  those  vices,  which  the 
breast  of  man  is  made  to  abhor,  and  the  spirit  of  all 
laws,  human  and  divine,  to  interdict,  we  desire  no 
longer  to  be  heard  on  this  occasion.  We 

urge  no  crimes  that  were  not  crimes  of  forethought. 
We  charge  him  with  nothing,  that  he  did  not  commit 
upon  deliberation :  that  he  did  not  commit  against 
advice,  supplication  and  remonstrance  ;  that  he  did 
not  commit  against  the  direct  command  of  lawful 
authority ;  that  he  did  not  commit  after  reproof  and 
reprimand ;  the  reproof  and  reprimand  of  those,  who 
are  authorized  by  the  laws  to  reprove  and  reprimand 
him.  *  *  *  He  was  fourteen  years  at  the  head 
of  that  service,  and  there  is  not  an  instance,  no,  not 
one  single  instance,  in  which  he  endeavored  to  detect 
corruption,  or  that  he  ever,  in  any  one  single  in 
stance,  attempted  to  punish  it ;  but  the  whole  service, 
with  that  whole  mass  of  enormity  which  he  attributes 
to  it,  slept  as  it  were  at  once  under  his  terror  and  his 
protection  ;  under  his  protection,  if  they  did  not  dare 
to  move  against  him ;  under  his  terror,  from  his 
power  to  pluck  out  individuals  and  make  a  public 


180  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

example  of  them,  whenever  he  saw  fit.  And  there 
fore,  that  service,  under  his  guidance  and  influence, 
was  even  beyond  what  its  own  nature  disposed  it  to, 
a  service  of  confederacy,  a  service  of  connivance,  a 
service  composed  of  various  systems  of  guilt,  of  which 
Mr.  Hastings  was  the  head  and  protector." 

It  is  not  often  that  the  most  austere  and  ferocious 
tyrant  is  more  forcibly  portrayed.  And  if  we  can 
indeed  conceive  of  a  man  totally  deficient  in  the 
common  sentiments  of  justice  and  humanity,  or  to 
tally  averse  to  their  application,  we  may  form  some 
judgment  of  the  probable  course  and  ciirrcnt  of 
events,  likely  to  distinguish  his  administration.  It  is 
scarcely  possible,  without  entering  more  minutely 
into  the  subject  than  I  intend,  even  to  allude  intelli 
gibly  to  intricate  affairs  like  these,  often  dependent, 
for  their  full  understanding,  upon  various  circum 
stantial  details  and  explanations.  It  would  be  in 
vain  to  emulate  the  highly-wrought  illustrations  of 
the  Essay  of  Mr.  Macaulay.  But  I  shall  endeavor 
to  present  what  I  have  thought  it  important  to  con 
sider,  with  all  reasonable  clearness  to  your  good 
sense  and  judgment. 

I  have  already  remarked,  that  Hastings  found  the 
finances  of  Bengal  in  a  state  of  considerable  embar 
rassment.  In  order  to  meet  this  exigency,  he  did 
not  attempt  to  stem  the  current  of  abuses,  nor,  as  is 
the  fashion  of  modern  legislators,  to  call  into  play  the 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON    WARREN    HASTINGS.  131 

invaluable  services  of  an  able  and  judicious  commit 
tee  of  retrenchment.  But  wisely  reflecting  that,  since 
all  Englishmen  in  India  were  there,  for  the  purpose 
of  making  money,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  it  Avould  be 
a  pity  to  disturb  them  in  so  laudable  a  pursuit,  he 
left  them  altogether  to  their  own  devices,  and  looked 
about  him,  on  his  part,  for  native  princes  of  reputed 
riches,  to  insult,  and  upon  any  show  of  displeasure, 
to  plunder  without  mercy  or  compunction.  In  fact, 
nothing  could  be  more  simple  and  efficacious,  than 
the  process  by  which  Hastings  raised  the  necessary 
remittances.  It  must  be  remembered,  that,  in  the 
earlier  part  of  his  administration,  he  was  only  the 
governor  of  Bengal,  which  province  Avas  held  by  the 
East  India  Company  solely  for  the  purposes  of  com 
merce.  The  Empire  of  Hindostan,  of  which  Ben 
gal  made  a  portion,  consisted  of  a  great  number  of 
principalities,  more  or  less  independent,  although 
nominally  owning  subjection  to  the  descendant  of 
Tamerlane  at  Delhi.  The  Empire  had  become  thor 
oughly  disorganized,  after  the  successful  invasion  of 
the  great  Persian  conqueror,  Nadir  Shah,  in  the  early 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  various  viceroys 
or  princes  were  generally  at  dissension  amongst  them 
selves  ;  and  many  of  them  were  ambitious  of  extend 
ing  their  territories  and  power.  Some  of  these 
dignitaries  had  accumulated  vast  treasures,  which 
Hastings  wanted  ;  he,  on  the  other  hand,  had  troops 


132  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

at  his  command,  against  whose  discipline  the  bravest 
native  forces  were  utterly  unable  to  contend.  Noth 
ing  could  be  more  obvious,  therefore,  than  the  course 
of  conduct  to  be  pursued.  Whenever  the  directors 
at  home  suggested  the  propriety  of  further  remit 
tances,  Hastings,  at  once,  proceeded  to  take  posses 
sion  of  a  province.  It  sometimes  happened,  that  he 
was  able  to  effect  an  amicable  arrangement  with 
some  one  of  the  superior  officers  of  the  reigning 
prince,  and  rewarded  his  treachery  by  installing  him 
in  the  place  of  his  deposed  master,  at  a  stipulated 
and  always  an  extremely  remunerative  price.  In 
case  an  arrangement  of  this  kind  could  not  be  con 
veniently  made,  he  disposed  of  the  stolen  province, 
by  sale,  to  the  nearest  potentate,  who  was  willing  to 
become  the  purchaser.  By  means  like  these,  he  Avas 
able,  in  less  than  two  years,  to  add  something  like 
£700,000  to  the  annual  revenue  of  "  The  Honorable, 
the  Company  of  Merchants,  trading  to  the  East 
Indies,"  besides  sending  home  about  £1,000,000,  in 
ready  money. 

The  sad  and  painful  history  of  the  unfortunate 
Princesses  of  Oude,  the  two  aged  and  noble  women, 
out  of  whose  protracted  sufferings  he  at  length  wrung 
£1,200,000,  by  a  course  of  absolutely  unparalleled 
barbarities, — at  least  since  the  days  of  Montezuma 
and  Guatemozin, — not  only  without  pretence,  but 
against  every  emotion  which  human  nature  loves, — 


ME.  MACAULAY  ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  133 

has  long  prompted  the  indignant  horror  of  those,  who 
are  acquainted  with  the  history  of  the  concluding 
years  of  the*  last  century.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine, 
how  a  mind,  actuated  by  much  reverence  for  the 
principles  of  common  honesty,  can  entertain  any  dif 
ferent  sentiment  in  regard  to  other  similar  instances  of 
atrocity  and  oppression  ;  such  as  the  Rohilla  war,  the 
execution  of  the  Brahmin  Nuncomar,  the  sack  of 
Dinagopore,  the  infamous  exactions  at  Benares,  and 
innumerable  other  acts  of  treachery  and  violence, 
some  of  which  are  alluded  to,  while  others  do  not 
seem  even  to  have  attracted  the  attention  of  Mr. 
Macaulay.  It  would  make  the  heart  too  sick,  to 
undertake  the  recital,  or  to  endure  the  relation  of 
things,  which,  in  their  enormity  and  extent,  surpass 
all  that  history  or  fable  have  recorded,  at  least 
amongst  the  fruits  of  peace,  if  they  are  not  equally 
eminent  above  all  the  more  ordinary  ferocities  of 
war.  And  the  lapse  of  more  than  seventy  years,  and 
the  gradual  influence  of  a  generally  more  humane 
and  improving  legislation,  have  not  been  able  to  ef 
face  them  from  the  memory  of  the  people  of  India. 
If  it  were  possible  to  conceive  of  an  anomaly  so 
strange  and  unheard  of,  as  a  demon  of  peace  itself, — 
only  not  the  genius  of  War,  because  all  the  power, 
all  the  cruelty  and  all  the  desire  to  prey  upon  the 
defenceless,  were  rioting  at  its  single  heart, — some 
idea  may  be  formed  of  the  condition  of  this  unhappy 
12 


134  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

land,  under  the  terrible  visitation  of  its  destroyer. 
Hastings  himself  and  many  after  him  have  set  up  the 
plea,  that  the  people  of  Hindostan  were  but  a  nation, 
whom  nature  and  habit  had  fitted  only  for  slaves ; 
and  that  they  would  endure  no  treatment  but  that,  to 
which  a  treacherous  slave  should  be  subjected  by  a 
rigorous  master.  But,  without  staying  to  inquire 
into  the  duties,  which  we  may  conclude  to  devolve 
upon  the  humane  and  Christian  superior,  to  whom 
Providence  intrusts  the  welfare  of  the  dependant, — 
the  plea  itself  is  untenable,  for  the  reason  that  it  is 
not  true.  That  the  standard  of  general  morals  was 
not  higher  in  Hindostan,  than  in  many  other  semi- 
barbarous  countries,  we  may  well  believe.  That  this 
standard  had  become  depreciated,  in  proportion  as 
you  approached  the  sea-coast,  where  foreigners  chiefly 
congregated,  we  have  also  some  reason  for  believing 
to  be  quite  credible.  The  natives  had  been,  for  a  long 
time,  subjected  to  the  evils  of  anarchy,  and  they  had 
not  gained  any  improvement  by  their  intercourse 
with  Europeans.  There  arc  certain  offences  which  a 
Hindoo  never  forgives,  chiefly  relating  to  his  caste 
and  his  personal  dignity ;  as  is  the  case,  in  the  latter 
particular,  at  least,  with  every  unchristianized  people. 
If  they  have  strong  faults  of  character,  they  are  no 
less  distinguished  by  many  kinds  of  virtue,  which  it 
were  to  be  wished  were  more  common  and  more 
valued  in  Europe  and  America.  No  doubt,  they  are 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  135 

acute,  intelligent  and  crafty.  In  the  encounter  of 
wits,  the  English  often  had  to  submit  to  be  foiled  in 
their  own  game  of  plunder.  Resenting  such  suc 
cesses,  as  injuries,  therefore,  they  looked  with  suspicion 
upon  all  those  more  prominent  Indian  qualities  ;  and 
they  were  especially  provoked  at  any  reluctance  (un 
pardonable  in  slaves),  to  aid  their  generous  design  of 
transferring  the  gold  and  the  silver,  the  jewels,  the 
ivory,  the  silks  and  the  spices, — in  truth,  the  riches  of 
the  Indies, — to  the  "fast-anchored  isle  of  the  ocean  ;" 
and,  for  all  these  reasons,  the  invaders  contrived  to 
fix  upon  the  subjected  a  very  discreditable  name. 

In  order  to  show,  that  I  do  not  make  allegations 
without  proof,  I  quote,  as  to  the  character  of,  at  least, 
a  portion  of  the  inhabitants  of  Bengal,  a  few  words 
from  a  book,  written  by  a  predecessor  of  Hastings  in 
the  Presidency,  while  the  English  domination  was 
yet  insecure  ;  and  it  is  of  the  more  authority,  because 
the  object  of  the  author  was  to  persuade  to  a  compli 
ance  with  his  scheme,  for  the  subversion  of  the  Hindu 
government. 

"  In  truth,"  says  this  author,  Mr.  Holwell,  "  it 
would  be  almost  cruelty  to  molest  this  happy  people  ; 
for  in  this  district  are  the  only  vestiges  of  the  beauty, 
purity,  piety,  regularity,  equity  and  strictness  of  the 
ancient  Hiiidostan  government.  Here,  the  property, 
as  well  as  the  liberty  of  the  people  are  inviolate. 
Here,  no  robberies  are  heard  of,  either  public  or  pri- 


136  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

vate.  The  traveller,  either  with  or  without  merchan 
dise,  becomes  the  immediate  care  of  the  government, 
which  allots  him  guards,  without  any  expense,  to  con 
duct  him  from  stage  to  stage  ;  and  these  are  account 
able  for  the  safety  of  his  person  and  effects.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  stage,  he  is  delivered  over,  with  cer 
tain  benevolent  formalities,  to  the  guards  of  the  next, 
who,  after  interrogating  him,  as  to  the  usage  he  has 
received,  in  his  journey,  dismiss  the  first  guard  with 
a  written  certificate  of  their  behavior,  and  a  receipt 
for  the  traveller  and  his  effects ;  which  certificate  and 
receipt  are  returnable  to  the  commanding  officer  of 
the  first  stage,  who  registers  the  same  and  regularly 
reports  it  to  the  Rajah.  In  this  way,  the  traveller  is 
passed  through  the  country."  And  there  is  much 
more  of  the  same  tenor. 

Such  also,  according  to  the  very  highest  authority, 
was  the  real  condition  of  the  people  and  government 
of  Benares  ;  which  city  was  made  by  Hastings  a  scene 
of  injustice  and  extortion,  so  utterly  indefensible,  that 
Mr.  Pitt  himself,  during  the  progress  of  the  impeach 
ment, — even  after  the  administration  of  which  he  was 
leader  had  determined  to  sustain  Hastings, — voted 
with  the  opposition  as  to  part  of  the  charges,  declar 
ing  to  Mr.  Wilberforce,  that  his  conscience  would  not 
let  him  hold  out  any  longer.  In  the  insecure  state  of 
the  governments  of  India,  the  Rajah  of  this  city  and 
its  dependencies  paid  a  fixed  tribute  to  the  English 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  137 

authorities  for  their  protection.  It  is  admitted,  on  all 
hands,  that  the  tribute  was  strictly  and  honorably 
paid ;  but  the  protection  proved  to  be,  in  the  end, 
such  as  lambs  receive  from  wolves.  The  character  of 
this  great  and  magnificent  city  was  somewhat  pecul 
iar.  It  was  regarded  with  religious  reverence,  through 
out  all  Hindostan.  It  was  filled  with  schools  and 
colleges  and  temples  of  worship.  It  was  constantly 
crowded  with  millions  of  those,  who,  in  that  necessity 
of  our  nature,  which  induces  certain  manifestations 
of  the  human  mind,  in  all  countries,  to  aspire  to  a 
higher  than  ordinary  tone  of  religious  sentiment,  pro 
fessed,  011  their  part,  an  uncommon  sanctity  of  char 
acter  and  deportment ;  and  thither  the  devout  Hindoo 
retired  to  die.  It  was  what  Mecca  is  to  the  Mahom 
etan  ;  and  what  Jerusalem  was,  to  the  Hebrew  and 
Christian  alike,  during  a  more  exalted  if  not  a  purer 
state  of  religious  influence  on  society.  The  adminis 
tration  of  the  Prince  had  been  mild ;  he  was  univer 
sally  beloved  and  respected  ;  his  territory  was  happy 
and  prosperous.  It  is  said,  that  nothing  could  be 
more  striking,  than  the  contrast  it  presented  to  the 
provinces,  under  the  more  immediate  control  of  the 
English  government.  The  tax,  paid  by  the  Rajah  to 
the  Governor-general,  amounted  to  £50,000  a  year, 
and  all  he  requested  in  return  was,  that  he  and  his 
subjects  might  be  permitted  to  live  in  the  enjoyment 
of  their  own  peace  and  quiet,  unmolested  by  the 
12* 


138  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

blessings  or  the  curses  of  English  domination.  But 
the  Rajah  was  reputed  to  be  rich,  and  the  temptation 
was  altogether  too  strong  for  the  imprmcipled  cupid 
ity  of  Hastings.  Although  the  precise  total  of  his 
subsidy  was  fixed  by  solemn  engagement,  the  Rajah 
submitted,  with  the  best  grace  he  could  summon,  to 
repeated  additional  exactions,  until  patience  could 
endure  it  no  longer.  At  length,  well  knowing  the 
character  of  his  extortioner,  and  in  the  hope  of  buy 
ing  a  permanent  peace,  he  offered  Hastings  a  bribe  of 
.£20,000,  which  the  Governor-general  accepted,  and 
concealed,  and  then  renewed  his  demands.  Of  the 
event  of  his  unavailing  negotiations,  his  fruitless 
efforts  to  avoid  an  open  rupture,  and  the  result  of 
the  unhappy  Rajah's  desperate  but  vain  resistance,  it 
is  impossible  to  speak  in  terms  of  sufficient  indigna 
tion.  The  Hindoos,  in  general,  are  not  warlike,  and 
it  may  be  supposed  that  the  minds  of  a  great  propor 
tion  of  the  population,  commorant  in  this  city  of 
religion,  were  bent  upon  peaceful  contemplations. 
Still  the  people  rallied  in  defence  of  the  sovereign 
whom  they  loved  and  their  own  liberties  ;  but  English 
arms  and  terror  were  at  length  triumphant.  The 
wretched  Prince  was  compelled  to  flee  forever  from 
his  hereditary  dominions.  Benares  was  reduced  to 
complete  subjection  to  the  invaders.  » The  new  Rajah, 
appointed  by  the  Governor-general,  Avas  a  mere  pen 
sioner  upon  the  English  bounty,  and  (the  old  conse- 


ME.  MACAULAY  ON  WARREN   HASTINGS.  139 

quence)  .£200,000,  annual  income,  were  added  to  the 
regular  revenues  of  the  Company.  The  bribe,  Hast 
ings,  after  some  time,  paid  over  to  the  funds  of  the 
government.  The  transaction  had,  of  course,  become 
notorious,  and,  since  it  was  impossible  longer  to  con 
ceal,  it  was  equally  impossible  to  retain  it.  The 
only  account  he  ever  gave  of  the  matter  was,  that  he 
always  intended  to  give  the  Company  credit  for  it, 
(although  we  may  remark,  they  had  no  more  title  to 
it  than  himself)  and,  that  he,  no  doubt,  had  reasons, 
at  the  time,  for  the  concealment  of  its  acceptance,  but 
what  those  reasons  were  he  had  entirely  forgotten  ! 
Nor  did  he  ever  inform  the  public,  that  he  had  re 
called  them  to  his  recollection. 

Some  years  before  these  occurrences,  an  event  had 
taken  place,  which  Mr.  Burke,  in  the  proceedings  of 
impeachment,  did  not  scruple  to  brand  with  the  name 
of  murder  ;  and  for  which,  whether  viewed  in  its 
legal  or  its  moral  aspect,  it  seems  difficult  to  discover 
a  softer  name.  A  specification  of  charges  had  been 
filed  at  the  Council-board,  accusing  Hastings,  amongst 
other  corrupt  practices,  of  taking  bribes,  on  various 
occasions  and  to  large  amounts,  for  the  sale  of  offices 
mentioned  in  the  statement.  The  paper  was  accom 
panied  by  documentary  evidence  in  proof ;  the  sources 
of  oral  testimony  were  pointed  out,  and  the  accuser 
demanded  to  be  personally  heard  before  the  Council, 
in  support  of  his  allegations.  Nothing  could  seem  a 


140  ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

fairer  or  more  open  procedure  than  this.  It  has  been 
averred  by  one  certainly  not  friendly  to  Hastings,  yet 
always  considered  most  friendly  to  the  truth,  that 
there  was  not  an  office  of  justice,  or  other  descrip 
tion,  in  India,  which  he  did  not  sell  for  his  own  bene 
fit  ;  and  the  records  of  the  Council  would  seem  fully 
to  sustain  this  assertion,  in  the  judgment  of  his  col 
leagues.  In  their  records,  not  only  every  matter  of 
public  business,  but  every  expression  of  debate  and 
opinion,  were  regularly  entered,  for  the  inspection  of 
the  directors  at  home.  Two  of  his  colleagues  were 
certainly  men  of  the  very  highest  and  most  unsus 
pected  character ;  and  therefore,  we  may  conclude, 
justly  opposed  to  the  course  of  his  proceedings ;  nor 
do  I  know  anything  unfavorable  to  the  private  repu 
tation  of  the  other  member,  Sir  Philip  Francis,  except 
that  he  appears  to  have  been  violent  and  vindictive  in 
his  temper  and  general  demeanor.  At  all  events, 
they  were  all  equally  and  openly  hostile  to  the  pur 
poses  of  Hastings.  This  is  one  minute,  entered  at 
the  open  Council-board,  by  General  Sir  John  Clavcr- 
ing : — "  In  the  late  proceedings  it  will  appear,  that 
there  is  no  species  of  peculation,  from  which  the 
Honorable  Governor-general  has  thought  it  reasonable 
to  abstain ;"  and  he  further  adds,  in  answer  to  a  state 
ment  made  by  Hastings  : — "  This  is  only  worthy  of  a 
man,  who  has  disgraced  himself  in  the  eyes  of  every 
man  of  honor  both  in  Asia  and  Europe." 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  141 

The  Council,  as  might  be  concluded,  were  disposed 
to  proceed  in  the  investigation  of  the  charges  pre 
ferred  against  him  ;  but  to  this  Hastings  utterly  ob 
jected,  alleging  the  want  of  jurisdiction  of  the  tribu 
nal,  and  the  baseness  of  the  accuser  himself.  The 
character  of  this  person  Mr.  Macaulay  takes  pains  to 
display  in  the  most  unfavorable,  and,  we  may  believe, 
the  most  exaggerated  aspect.  He  alleges  all  Hindoos 
to  be  base,  and  this  person  to  have  been  the  basest  of 
his  race.  At  all  events,  if  truly  described  by  Hastings 
and  Mr.  Macaulay,  one  would  think  the  head  of  the 
government  need  have  had  little  fear  from  such  a 
source.  The  people  of  India,  it  is  well  known,  are 
divided  into  many  hereditary  castes.  At  the  head  of 
the  very  highest  and  most  sacred  stood  this  person,  the 
Brahmin  Nuncomar ;  a  Hindoo  of  the  Hindoos ;  the 
high  priest  of  a  priesthood,  claiming  peculiar  venera 
tion  for  its  order,  besides  his  princely  rank  amongst 
the  nobility  of  India.  He  was  possessed  of  great 
wealth  and  immense  influence,  and  the  most  extraor 
dinary  and  commanding  talents.  He  was  artful,  bold, 
intriguing  and  perhaps  unprincipled.  At  some  of  the 
courts  of  Europe,  he  might  have  passed  for  a  distin 
guished  statesman  and  patriot,  and  even  from  India 
he  exerted  no  mean  influence  upon  the  deliberations 
of  the  court  of  directors  in  London.  So  far  as  I  have 
been  able  to  ascertain,  he  was  elevated  by  many  higher 
qualities,  debased  by  no  meaner  vices,  than  are  dis- 


142  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

played  in  the  characters  of  Harley,  Sundcrland,  Bute, 
Walpole,  and  other  familiar  names.  It  is  certain,  that 
he  was  a  politician,  eminent  for  one  honorahle  and 
generous  quality,  an  earnest  of  others,  the  most  un 
tiring  fidelity  to  the  person  and  interests  of  a  master, 
whom  Hastings  had  oppressed  and  ruined.  That  he 
was  personally  hostile  to  Hastings,  therefore,  there 
can  be  no  doubt,  as  well  on  this,  as  on  many  other 
accounts.  They  had  violently  quarrelled,  some  years 
before  ;  and  the  Governor-general  hated  him  besides, 
because  he  did  not  scruple  to  engage  in  thwarting 
many  of  his  unwarrantable  designs. 

The  Council  persisted  in  their  investigation  of  the 
business,  and  finally  adjudged  the  charges  to  be  fully 
sustained.  In  the  meantime,  Hastings  was  unques 
tionably  in  great  danger,  and  he  resolved  upon  a  step 
so  bold,  that,  like  acts  of  boldness,  oftentimes,  it 
seems  to  have  too  much  astounded  others,  both  then 
and  since,  to  permit  of  their  forming  an  accurate 
judgment.  By  his  confessed  instigation,  a  charge  of 
forgery,  alleged  to  have  been  committed  six  years 
before,  was  got  up  against  Nuncomar,  upon  which  he 
was  arrested  and  thrown  into  the  common  jail.  In 
order  to  bring  this  question  to  a  successful  result,  the 
consent  of  one  other  person  was  requisite.  This  was 
Sir  Elijah  Impey,  the  chief  justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Bengal ;  a  man  so  execrable,  that  he  has 
never  yet  found  a  defender,  for  any  part  of  his  ad- 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  143 

ministration.  He  had  been  the  school-fellow,  and  was 
now  the  friend  of  Hastings.  To  show  at  once  their 
relations  and  the  moral  sense  of  both,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  state,  that,  although  Impey's  salary  was- 
fixed  by  law  at  eight  thousand  pounds, — upon  some 
difficulty  occurring  between  them,  Hastings  had  se 
cured  his  connivance,  by  illegally  doubling  the 
amount,  from  funds  within  his  own  control.  This 
was  certainly  a  very  convenient  arrangement  to  effect 
with  the  judicial  check  imposed  upon  his  own  acts ; 
and  the  fact  proved,  that  the  Governor-general  ever 
after  found  in  Impey  a  most  ready  and  serviceable 
instrument.  It  is  said  there  is  no  difficulty  in  pro 
curing  testimony  of  any  description  in  India.  How 
ever  that  may  be,  before  this  upright  judge,  with  or 
without  evidence,  Nuncomar  was  tried,  convicted  and 
sentenced  to  death  ;  and,  to  the  horror  and  consterna 
tion  of  all  Hindostan,  the  sentence  was  carried  into 
speedy  execution !  The  impression  of  the  scene  upon 
the  people  of  India,  though  no  doubt  exciting  emo 
tions  far  more  intense,  was  like  what  might  be  the 
general  dismay  of  England,  if  some  tyrannical  king, 
who  had  subverted  the  Constitution,  should  under 
take,  without  law,  and  upon  some  personal  dis 
pleasure,  to  hang  up  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
The  prime  minister  of  a  prince,  over  whom  the 
English  certainly  possessed  no  just  control ;  respected 
and  respectable  for  his  priestly  functions  ;  universally 


144  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

known  by  reason  both  of  his  personal  and  political 
relations ;  entitled  to  some  humane  consideration,  on 
account  of  his  venerable  age ;  he  was  shamefully 
dragged  from  his  position  as  the  public  accuser  of 
Hastings,  arrested  upon  a  charge  generally  believed 
to  have  been  fictitious ;  under  a  law  then  recently 
adapted  to  the  supposed  commercial  necessities  of 
England,  and  which  never  was  intended  to  have,  nor 
could  have  any  legal  operation  in  Asia ;  for  an 
offence,  which  we  should  regard  it  utterly  unreasona 
ble  to  make  capital  here,  and  which  in  India  was 
considered  as  little  criminal,  as  swearing  to  a  false 
entry  at  the  Custom-house  in  England, — this  man, 
.hemmed  in  by  all  the  barriers  and  prejudices  of  rank, 
wealth,  influence  and  religion,  was  publicly  hanged 
at  noon-day,  amid  the  cries  and  tears  of  agonized  mil 
lions,  the  victim  of  arbitrary  and  vindictive  power ! 

It  was  for  applying  the  term  "murder"  to  this 
transaction,  that  Mr.  Burke  was  subjected  to  the  cen 
sure  of  the  House  of  Commons.  He  received  the  an 
nouncement  of  their  disapprobation,  with  that  proud 
submission,  correspondent  to  the  whole  course  of  his 
dignified  and  manly  life.  The  state  of  feeling,  which 
could  be  excited  to  the  passage  of  such  a  vote,  against 
their  own  authorized  and  noble  manager,  for  even  the 
strongest  expression  of  indignant  feeling,  in  pursu 
ance  of  the  duty  which  they  had  themselves  imposed, 
amazes  us  now.  But  the  statute,  constituting  forgery 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  145 

a  capital  crime,  had  been  accorded,  not  long  before, 
to  the  demands  of  the  commercial  community.     The 
offence,  a  short  time  previously,  had  become  more  than 
usually  common.     Much  excited  feeling,  as  well  as 
excited  interest,  had  been  stirred  into  action.     Public 
sentiment,  on  this  subject,  was  in  a  state  of  extreme 
exaggeration.     Dr.  Dodd  had  been   executed,  as  a 
signal  example,  under  this  law,  notwithstanding  the 
most  strenuous  efforts  in  his  behalf,  headed  by  Lord 
Chesterfield,   himself   the   injured  party.      But  the 
House  does  not  appear  to  have  reflected,  that  a  mere 
compliance  with  the  forms  of  law  could  not  constitute  a 
justification  for  the  conduct  of  Hastings.    Its  members 
did  not  stay  to  consider,  whether  Nimcomar  was  inno 
cent  or  guilty ;  whether  the  forgery  was  a  real  or  only 
a  supposed  case,  or  whether  the  offence,  if  proved,  was 
punishable  in  Asia,  as  it  was  in  England.     Indeed, 
they  did  not  investigate  the  question  in  its  bearings 
at  all.     Mr.  Burke  had  pronounced  the  execution  of 
this  man  for  alleged  forgery,  under  all  the  extraordi 
nary  circumstances  of  the  case,  to  be  murder, — and 
this  was  enough  to  rouse  the  passions  and  prejudices 
of  the  day.     No  such  censure  could  inflict  a  stigma 
upon  its  object.     Of  its  reflective  bearing  upon  the 
intelligence  and  purity  of  the  tribunal,  a  different  view 
might  be  presented.     The  statute  has  subsequently 
been   repealed ;  and  it  is  now  well-irnderstood  law, 
that  no  English  statute  shall  have  power  over  the 
13 


146  MR.  MACAULAY    ON    WARREN   HASTINGS. 

Colonies,  unless  by  express  provision  to  that  effect. 
To  exhibit,  in  a  strong  light,  the  unreasonableness  of 
the  feeling  alluded  to,  and  the  evils  of  partial  and 
temporary  legislation, — for  this  same  offence,  for 
which  Dr.  Dodd  was  sent  to  the  gallows,  near  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  Dr.  Bailey,  another  Eng 
lish  clergyman,  was  transported  to  Botany  Bay,  within 
the  past  few  years. 

It  is  conceded  by  Mr.  Macaulay,  that  "  Impey,  sit 
ting  as  a  judge,  put  Nuncomar  unjustly  to  death,  in 
order  to  serve  a  political  purpose."  But  he  palliates 
the  conduct  of  Hastings,  upon  two  grounds.  First, 
that  he  might  well  consider  "  any  means  legitimate 
to  his  end,  which  were  pronounced  such  by  the  sages 
of  the  law ;"  and  secondly,  that  "  Hastings  cannot  be 
blamed,  for  wishing  to  crush  his  accusers."  They 
are  both  strange  doctrines,  and  need  but  a  brief  reply. 
The  "  sages  of  the  law,"  however,  I  may  as  well 
remark,  were  none  other  than  Sir  Elijah  Impey,  and 
him  alone  ;  and  though  such  "  sages"  certainly  have 
occasionally  sat  upon  the  bench,  yet,  to  the  honor  of 
humanity  be  it  spoken,  they  have  not  often  been  co- 
temporaries  ;  but  like  other  monsters,  have  appeared 
singly,  and  only  at  rare  intervals,  in  the  history  of 
jurisprudence.  The  "  political  purpose,"  for  which 
Impey  put  Nuncomar  unjustly  to  death,  was  the  safety 
of  Hastings.  The  judge  was  his  own  creature,  and 
the  end  was  procured  under  his  own  influence  and 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  147 

control, — and  basely  as  Impey  betrayed  his  trust,  I 
have  never  yet  learned  that  the  tempted  is  more  crim 
inal  than  the  tempter.  Besides,  the  argument  set 
forth,  in  palliation,  is  precisely  the  one  employed  by 
that  ridiculous  scarecrow,  "  Poor  Peter  Peebles,"  in 
the  novel  of  "  Red-gauntlet ;"  who  protested  it  uncom 
monly  hard,  that  he  should  be  held  amenable  in  con 
science,  for  a  most  cruel  and  violent  transaction  of  his 
more  prosperous  days,  since  all  the  proceedings  in  the 
premises  were  conducted  by  due  course  of  law.  That 
Hastings  felt  it  for  his  interest  "  to  crush  his  accuser," 
there  can  be  no  question.  Men  too  often  do  such 
things,  we  know,  and  afterwards  excuse  themselves  to 
their  consciences,  as  well  as  they  are  able.  Cromwell, 
under  different  circumstances,  destroyed  the  adversa 
ry,  who  stood  between  him  and  his  designs ;  and  for 
this,  of  all  his  acts,  the  peace  of  Zimri  was  upon  him 
to  his  dying  day.  But  that  a  writer,  professing  a  high 
standard  of  moral  sentiment,  should  sit  down  delib 
erately  in  his  study,  to  justify  such  an  act,  on  such 
grounds,  impresses  one  as  really  something  amazing. 
Revenge  and  injustice,  I  trust,  are  not  yet  defensible 
propensities.  However  our  conduct  may  fall  short  of 
our  professions,  we  yet  cannot  forbear  to  hold  our 
selves  accountable  to  higher  considerations,  of  what  is 
due  to  ourselves,  to  others  and  to  the  world — 

Else  wherefore  breathe  we  in  a  Christian  land  ? 


148  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

If  the  accusations  of  Nuncomar  were  false,  Hastings 
might  Avell  have  defied  them  ;  if  true,  the  honor  of 
the  British  character  demanded,  that  he  should  no 
longer  disgrace  his  high  official  station.  And  to  pre 
tend,  that  either  ruler  or  citizen,  either  for  policy  or 
security,  may  murder  an  open  accuser,  in  order  to 
prevent  an  investigation  into  his  crimes,  is  a  doctrine 
as  novel  in  theory,  as  it  would  be  terribly  pernicious 
in  fact. 

But  perhaps  the  crowning  infamy  of  this  man's 
misdeeds  was  the  Rohilla  war.  It  is  the  less  neces 
sary  for  me  to  enlarge  on  this  topic,  because  in  this 
instance,  I  believe,  all  are  agreed  to  give  up  both 
Hastings  and  his  country  to  merited  disgrace.  But  I 
do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  pass  it  entirely  by ; 
especially  as  it  may  help  to  teach  us,  how  some  of 
those,  who,  in  our  day,  are  still  reaping  the  pecu 
niary  results  of  this  bad  enterprise,  might  find  food 
for  decent  reflection  nearer  home,  before  they  wasted 
such  a  profusion  of  cheap  philanthropy  abroad.  The 
Eohillas  were,  by  far,  the  most  interesting  people  of 
India  ;  brave,  intelligent,  cultivated,  prosperous,  hos 
pitable  and  happy.  They  maintained  their  independ 
ence  by  their  own  courage,  and  stood  secure,  under  a 
wise,  prudent  and  paternal  government.  Their  coun 
try  is  situated  at  the  westernmost  extremity  of  India, 
on  the  frontiers  of  Persia,  separated  from  Hindostan 
itself  by  the  river  Indus  ;  and  through  it  runs  that 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WAEEEN   HASTINGS.  149 

vast  range  of  lofty  mountains,  which,  commencing  on 
the  Mediterranean,  under  the  name  of  Taurus,  passes, 
by  various  denominations  and  in  various  directions, 
through  the  whole  extent  of  Asia,  to  the  sea  of 
Okotsk  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  in  the  east.  It  is 
styled,  by  an  old  writer,  the  "  Paradise  of  the  Indies." 
Agriculture  and  the  arts  of  peace  flourished  through 
out  its  fertile  valleys ;  and  the  whole  province  pre 
sented  a  living  realization  of  those  golden  days, 
sometimes  found  gliding  away,  in  the  nooks  and 
corners  of  the  world,  to  prove  that,  in  elder  times, 
the  patriarchal  age  was  not  a  pastoral  fable.  With 
out  even  the  shadow  of  pretence,  the  Nabob  of  Oude, 
a  tributary  to  the  English  power,  and  one  of  Hast- 
ings's  intrusive  governors,  conceived  the  idea  of  an 
nexing  this  rich  territory  to  his  dominions.  He 
dared  not  make  the  attempt  himself,  for  the  Eohillas 
were  warlike  and  to  be  feared ;  but  negotiated  with 
Hastings  for  assistance.  For  the  sum  of  ,£400,000, 
and  payment  of  the  expenses  of  the  war,  Hastings 
was  base  enough  to  lend  him  the  British  bayonets. 
The  Rohillas  made  every  eifort  to  avoid  a  conflict 
with  the  English,  with  whom  they  had  no  quarrel ; 
but  finding  it  impossible,  put  themselves  upon  their 
best  defence.  The  particulars  of  the  struggle  are 
well  worthy  the  closest  attention.  Be  it  enough  for 
me  to  say,  that,  after  a  desperate  and  bloody  contest, 
13* 


150  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

they  were  overpowered,  and  given  up  to  the  cruel 
mercies  of  the  cowardly  Nabob,  who  had  fled  while 
the  combat  was  yet  doubtful.  His  barbarities  were 
so  excessive,  that  the  English  officers  sent  to  Hast 
ings,  imploring  his  interference  ;  but  he  coldly  de 
clined  to  afford  either  command  or  advice,  there 
being,  as  he  alleged,  no  stipulation  in  the  contract,  as 
to  the  mode  of  conducting  the  war.  Indeed,  the 
Rohillas  seemed  to  be  almost  exterminated.  But  the 
consequences  of  evil  deeds  do  not  slumber  in  the 
dust.  The  iniquities  of  the  fathers  are  still  visited 
upon  the  children,  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 
A  scattered  remnant  of  this  brave  and  spirited  people 
again  gathered  upon  their  native  fastnesses ;  and  a 
portion  of  their  descendants,  at  least,  are  the  same 
Afghans,  who,  on  the  same  soil,  within  the  past  six 
or  seven  years,  have  taught  England  some  of  the 
most  mortifying  lessons  ever  imposed  upon  her  mili 
tary  pride.  I  shall  not  undertake  here  formally  to 
defend  the  Afghans,  or  their  mode  of  conducting  hos 
tilities.  Much  is  to  be  excused  to  a  brave  people, 
battling  for  their  own  rights,  upon  their  native  soil, 
against  a  powerful  foe  ;  especially  when,  as  in  the 
recent  instance,  the  quarrel  seems  to  have  been  as 
unreasonably  fastened  upon  them,  as  in  the  old  time. 
I  suspect,  if  the  truth  were  told,  the  invaders  had 
little  to  boast  about.  One  thing,  however,  is  certain, 


ME.  MACAULAY  ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  151 

that  while  the  Afghans,  011  their  part,  exhibited  to 
the  captured  ladies  of  the  British  officers  a  species  of 
consideration  and  generosity,  of  which  no  memorials 
had  been  preserved  for  their  instruction  from  the 
days  of  Sujah  Dowlah, — the  progress  of  the  invading 
forces  themselves  emulated,  if  it  did  not  surpass,  every 
description  of  wanton  cruelty,  which  defile  the  tra 
ditionary  annals  of  the  old  Rohilla  war. 

I  have  endeavored,  with  a  few  necessary  touches, 
to  set  forth,  sufficiently  for  the  purpose,  those  scenes, 
upon  which  Mr.  Macaulay  has  employed  all  the  gor 
geous  coloring  of  a  vivid  fancy  and  the  utmost 
minuteness  of  pointed  and  picturesque  detail.  I 
should  avoid  undertaking  to  abridge,  for  recital,  the 
heart-sickening  atrocities  of  Dinagcpore  and  its  sister 
territories,  for  perhaps  the  same  reason  that  they 
have  been  omitted  by  Mr.  Macaulay.  Besides  the 
extreme  horror  of  their  revolting  and  most  unnatural 
circumstances,  upon  the  narration  of  this  portion  of  the 
dreadful  story  Mr.  Burke  has  expended  all  the  luxu 
riant  resources  of  his  great  and  fertile  mind.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  do  this  subject  equal  justice  with  the 
rest,  in  the  same  degree  that  the  language,  the  sensi 
bility,  the  imagination,  the  comprehensiveness  of  Mr. 
Burke,  are  superior  to  similar  faculties  and  qualities 
in  any  writer,  who  should  attempt  to  follow  him.  Be 
it  enough  to  state,  that,  in  a  province  comparatively 
poor,  it  was  a  systematic,  long-continued  and  most 


152  MR.  MACAULAY   ON  WARREN  HASTINGS. 

cruel  effort,  by  a  relentless  agent,  under  the  appoint 
ment  and  for  the  use  of  Hastings, — 

To  wring 

From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trash, — 

executed  with  a  dogged  and  perverse  brutality,  from 
which  the  very  soul  recoils  almost  incredulous, — and 
pursued,  until  every  human  pore,  in  the  ill-fated  ter 
ritory,  ran  purple  with  the  blood  of  agony  ;  until  age 
and  infancy,  and  the  shame  and  sensitiveness  of 
woman,  shrank  from  the  demons,  who  denied  the 
nature  of  their  own  species,  and  laid  themselves 
down  in  the  jungle  of  the  tiger  and  the  hyena,  rather 
than  any  longer  endure  the  more  savage  intimacy  of 
man.  Whoever  desires  to  recur  more  particularly  to 
the  voluminous  materials,  upon  this  subject,  will  find 
them  fearfully  set  forth,  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  days' 
speech  of  Mr.  Burke,  at  the  opening  of  the  impeach 
ment. 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  more  marked  and  open 
exemplifications  of  the  nature  of  British  rule  in  India, 
during  the  last  century.  The  infinite  excesses  and 
abuses,  attributable  to  private  corruption,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  specify.  The  world  has  often  wondered 
at  the  slow  progress  of  the  Christian  religion  in  that 
region,  and  the  apparently  fruitless  issue  of  mission 
ary  labors  ;  and  it  has  spoken  of  the  impenetrable 
prejudices  of  the  Hindoos,  which,  like  threefold 
armor,  rendered  them  alike  indifferent  to  the  spir- 


ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  153 

itual  sword,  whether  wielded  by  Jesuit  or  Church 
man  ;  whether  the  standard  of  the  Cross  was  unfurled, 
upon  the  ramparts  of  Portuguese  bigotry,  or  waved, 
where  the  doctrines,  of  which  it  was  the  sign,  were 
enforced  and  illustrated  by  the  more  generous  enthu 
siasm  of  a  Heber  or  a  Schwartz.  But  the  early 
preachers  of  Christianity  and  their  immediate  suc 
cessors,  through  difficulties  and  dangers  now  un 
known,  were  able  to  overcome  the  most  inveterate 
and  diverse  prejudices.  The  apostolic  staff,  if  not 
always  available  for  personal  defence,  was  still  their 
rod  of  support  and  comfort,  as  they  traversed  the, 
most  distant  and  inhospitable  corners  of  the  world. 
Upon  stony  places,  by  the  way-side  and  among  thorns, 
they  flung  the  scattered  seed  ;  amidst  the  heritage  of 
Ishmael,  along  the  Idumean  road, — and  through  this 
very  India,  into  countries  still  more  remote,  where 
all  traces  of  the  specific  worship  have  long  since  been 
swallowed  up  in  the  vortex  of  revolutions.  As  a 
curious  and  interesting  exemplification  of  their  prim 
itive  successes,  the  golden  candlestick  which  they  set 
up  still  glimmers,  with  a  feeble  light  indeed,  amidst 
the  darkness  of  Ethiopia  ;  and  from  the  wild  ranges 
of  Kurdistan  a  Nestorian  Bishop  was,  not  long  since, 
in  this  land,  manifesting  something  of  the  traditionary 
simplicity  of  the  ancient  and  original  Church.  But 
the  truth  is,  the  Hindoos  had  no  sort  of  reasonable 
motive  presented  for  their  conversion.  They  were 


154  ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN    HASTINGS. 

able  to  distinguish,  to  compare  and  to  see.  If  they 
heard  or  read  that  precept  of  the  Gospel,  which,  prop 
erly  understood,  lies  at  the  very  foundation  of  all 
Christian  morality,  which  forbids  us,  as  a  chief  good, 
to  "  lay  up  unto  ourselves  treasures  upon  earth,"- 
they  had  only  to  look  about  them  and  observe  their 
Christian  exemplars  absolutely  intent  upon  nothing 
else,  and  to  this  end  devoting  the  whole  energies  and 
spirit  of  their  lives.  We  know  that  commercial  inter 
course,  governed  by  honorable  principles  and  dignified 
and  alleviated  by  higher  considerations,  is  a  useful,  a 
necessary  and  a  noble  pursuit.  But,  unfortunately, 
the  admitted  standard  of  worldly  morality  is  obviously 
far  beneath  the  perfection  of  the  divine  requisition  ; 
and  practices  and  principles  pass  more  than  current 
in  the  daily  intercourse  of  society,  which  cannot  be 
reconciled  with  the  plainest  obligations  of  duty.  So 
thoroughly  has  the  world  settled  the  conditions  of  its 
law  in  opposition  to  the  law  of  God,  that  the  ordinary 
morals  of  business  are  too  commonly  anything  but 
Christian  morals.  It  is  to  be  doubted,  whether  the 
moral  conduct  of  Christendom  compares  favorably,  in 
this  respect,  with  that  of  many  heathen  nations.  It 
is  this  fatal  discrepancy  between  our  professions  and 
our  practice,  which  unfits  commerce  to  be  the  mis 
sionary  of  religion.  As  well  expect  Shylock  to  be 
converted  by  Antonio — and  to  anticipate  the  propaga 
tion  of  the  Gospel  amongst  the  simplest,  much  more 


ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  155 

amongst  an  intelligent  and  acute  people,  by  means 
like  these,  would  be  as  reasonable,  as  to  look  amidst 
the  gray  shadows,  of  the  western  horizon,  on  a  wintry 
evening,  for  the  matchless  splendors  of  the  summer 
dawn.  If  this  be  true,  as  a  general  rule,  what  success 
ful  progress  could  Christianity  expect  from  a  system 
like  that  of  India,  where  all  was  fraud,  all  corrup 
tion,  all  cruelty,  treachery  and  plunder  ?  It  resulted 
from  these  causes,  no  doubt,  that  the  hopes  of  many 
were  disappointed,  because  the  influence  and  efforts 
of  the  English  in  China  recently  failed  to  exert  any 
favorable  tendency  towards  its  civilization  and  con 
version  ;  and  will  still  fail,  thus  presented,  though 
medicined  with — 


poppy  or  mandragora, 

Or  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world. 

Indeed  the  refinements  of  civilization  itself,  if  it  be 
not  elevated  and  controlled  by  a  more  spiritual  power, 
seem  to  me  to  be,  in  reality,  worse  than  the  worst  of 
all  barbarisms.  I  cannot  assent  to  the  soundness  of 
a  much  admired  philosophical  sentiment  of  Mr. 
Burke,  (and  it  is  not  often  that  I  should  undertake  to 
find  fault  with  his  philosophy)  that  "  vice  loses  half 
its  evil,  by  losing  all  its  grossness."  Mr.  Burke  was 
misled,  by  looking  at  vice  abstractly,  instead  of  by 
examples.  A  painted  harlot  may  be,  perhaps,  more 
attractive,  but  is  she  less  dangerous  than  her  equal,  in 
rags?  The  war-club  of  the  African  savage,  which 


156  ME.  MACAULAY   ON  WARREN   HASTINGS. 

can  be  seen  and  avoided,  is  better  than  the  stiletto  of 
the  more  polished,  but  no  less  inherent  barbarian, 
which  secretly  penetrates  to  the  life.  The  soul  of  the 
untutored  Indian,  upon  our  Western  prairies,  true  to 
all  it  has  felt  and  known,  is  infinitely  superior  to  the 
corrupt  heart,  that  beat  amidst  all  the  splendid  and 
hollow  magnificence  of  the  Roman  Court.  It  is  pre 
ferable  that  the  mind  should  remain  ignorant,  and  be 
so  less  potent  for  mischief,  unless  the  heart  becomes 
more  and  more  purified,  at  every  point  of  advance 
ment  in  knowledge.  It  is  impious  to  anticipate,  that 
Heaven  will  favor  the  accomplishment  of  a  good  end, 
by  evil  means.  Providence,  no  doubt,  may  interpose, 
to  prevent  the  consequences  of  crime  ;  and  leaving  men 
equally  responsible  for  their  wicked  purposes,  may,  in 
the  exercise  of  supreme  wisdom,  benevolence  and 
power,  turn  them  all  into  an  occasion  of  good.  But 
this  is  the  prerogative  of  God,  and  of  Him  alone ! 
So  far  as  we  have  reason  to  know,  Providence  does 
not  see  fit  to  encourage  any  hope  of  cooperation  in 
our  actions,  unless  they  are  prompted  by  commend 
able  motives.  For  example  and  for  punishment,  it 
permits  the  natural  return  of  those  rewards,  linked 
to  our  misdeeds  by  chains  of  inextricable  adamant. 
Every  principle  of  wisdom,  every  condition  of  moral 
necessity,  requires  the  exercise  of  virtue  for  the 
attainment  of  virtuous  ends.  They  afford  us  no  war 
rant  for  supposing,  that  anything  but  evil  can  come 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  157 

out  of  evil,  or  that  eventual  benefit  can  be  derived 
from  anything  but  that  which  is  in  itself  good.  Our 
duty  is,  to  be  wise,  prudent,  virtuous,  according  to 
the  measure  of  our  capacity  and  opportunity  ;  and  we 
cannot  safely  say,  that  we  will  leave  the  consequences 
of  our  conduct  to  a  higher  Power,  unless  we  have 
some  good  reason  to  be  persuaded,  that  our  motives 
and  actions  are  in  themselves  right. 

Indeed,  the  very  spirit  and  constitution  of  Chris 
tianity  forbid  that  we  should  expect  such  results,  as 
have  been  anticipated,  in  India  and  China.  Its  first 
principle  is  Peace — how  can  you,  therefore,  propa 
gate  it  with  the  sword  !  The  very  element  of  its 
system  is  Love ;  why  should  you,  therefore,  enforce  it, 
with  all  the  fiery  malignity  of  hate  ? 

I  have  left  myself  little  space  to  remark  upon  the 
subsequent  fortunes  of  Hastings.  The  conduct  of 
affairs  in  India  and  the  outrages  of  his  administration 
had  been,  for  several  years,  the  subject  of  bitter  dis 
pute,  at  the  Court  of  Directors  and  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Although  all  tilings  in  England  are  more 
or  less  influenced  by  political  bias,  yet,  in  this  instance, 
men,  for  a  time,  overleaped  the  barriers  of  faction. 
After  an  indignant  vote  of  censure  upon  his  conduct, 
in  the  House,  it  was  resolved  that  he  ought  to  be 
recalled.  Soon  after  his  return  he  was  impeached  ; 
and  the  world  has  long  rung  with  the  fame  of  the 
celebrated  orations  of  Burke,  Sheridan  and  Fox, 
14 


158  MR.  MACAULAY   ON  WARREN   HASTINGS. 

before  that  high  tribunal,  more  august,  it  would  seem, 
than  competent,  which  sat  in  judgment  upon  his  mis 
deeds.  It  has  often  occurred  to  my  own  mind,  that, 
if  Hastings  could  have  been  brought  to  the  bar,  for 
any  single  one  of  his  many  outrages,  the  general 
sense  of  humanity  and  justice,  which  governs  deliber 
ative  proceedings  in  Great  Britain,  would  have  easily 
insured  his  condemnation  and  exemplary  punishment. 
But  the  very  multitude  of  his  offences  seems  to 
bewilder  and  fatigue  the  attention  ;  and  the  mind 
instinctively  shrinks  from  believing,  that  any  human 
being  has  been  really  denied  by  such  a  complication 
of  crimes.  In  him,  it  was  a  successive  series  of 
transactions,  extending  over  a  considerable  space  of 
time,  and  the  traces  of  each  separate  enormity  were 
obliterated,  in  his  passive  conscience,  by  the  footsteps 
of  its  rapid  successors  ;  to  us  it  is  presented,  as  one 
vast  and  confused  accumulation  of  horrors,  from 
which  we  recoil  incredulous,  and  are  only  too  happy 
to  escape  their  scrutiny. 

For  various  reasons  the  trial  was  protracted,  for  a 
period  of  nearly  eight  years.  In  the  mean  time,  vast 
changes  had  taken  place.  New  political  interests  had 
sprung  up.  In  regard  to  certain  of  them,  several  of 
the  old  opponents  of  Hastings  had  been  irrevocably 
alienated  from  each  other.  Some  of  these  had 
become  connected  with  the  ministry,  which  now  took 
open  sides  with  the  Ex-Governor-general.  "Wherever 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  159 

art,  influence,  or  money  could  avail  with  the  press, 
the  people  or  the  parliament,  they  had  been  most 
zealously  employed  in  his  behalf.  Public  emotion 
had  become  very  considerably  allayed,  and  weariness 
had  taken  the  place  of  indignation.  Of  the  large 
body  of  peers,  who  sat  in  judgment  at  his  impeach 
ment,  nearly  one  half  had  been  themselves  summoned 
to  a  higher  tribunal.  At  the  final  judgment  upon  the 
charges,  many  of  the  Lords  absented  themselves  ;  and 
of  about  two  hundred,  then  composing  their  body, 
only  twenty-nine  voted  at  all.  Upon  the  vote  of  a 
majority  of  these  he  was  eventually  acquitted,  in 
terms,  by  a  singular  sentence,  which  required  him  to 
pay  more  than  X 70,000,  as  a  part  of  the  costs  of  pros 
ecution.  If  he  were  innocent,  this  was  an  unjust  ex 
action, — if  guilty,  an  infamous  compromise.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  several  of  the  most  eminent  in  place, 
of  the  "  spiritual  Lords,"  voted  for  his  acquittal,  while 
amongst  the  "  Lords  temporal,"  who  declared  them 
selves  for  his  condemnation,  is  to  be  observed,  together 
with  the  names  of  others  less  known  to  us,  that  of 
the  late  venerable  Earl  Fitzwilliam,  ever  after  distin 
guished  for  the  unsullied  integrity  of  his  character, 
and  the  manly  nobleness  of  his  life.  Whatever  the 
offences  of  Hastings  might  have  been,  his  administra 
tion  of  Indian  affairs  had  added  immense  sums  to  the 
public  revenues  and  the  private  fortunes  of  England  ; 
and  the  estates  of  the  wealthy  aristocracy,  of  both 


160  MR.  MACAULAY   ON    WARREN   HASTINGS. 

Houses,  had  been  benefited,  in  many  instances,  directly 
or  indirectly,  by  his  means.  His  escape,  therefore, 
was  inevitable,  for  interest,  not  justice,  held  the  un 
equal  scale. 

But  the  main  immediate  impediment  to  the  rightful 
discovery  of  truth,  upon  this  great  occasion,  was  the 
determination,  with  which  the  Lords  fettered  them 
selves,  that  their  investigations  should  be  governed  by 
the  rules  of  evidence  practised  upon  in  the  English 
Courts  of  Law.  If  it  were  becoming  to  say  so,  the 
absurdity,  as  well  as  the  hindrance  unavoidably  occa 
sioned  by  this  resolution,  must  have  pressed  upon 
every  step  of  their  deliberations.  This  system  of 
rules,  in  its  own  place,  is  not  only  wise  and  salutary, 
but  absolutely  essential  to  the  despatch  of  business. 
It  is  necessary,  both  for  the  promotion  of  public  justice 
and  the  security  of  private  right.  These  rules  are 
the  result  of  great  experience  and  sagacity.  In  the 
natural  impossibility  of  framing  such  as  could  prove 
of  universal  application,  their  observance  may  often 
tend  to  the  advantage  of  the  criminal,  and  may  some 
times  save  him  from  the  just  consequences  of  his 
crimes.  But  the  enforcement  of  precision  here  is 
equally  beneficial  to  the  public,  and  the  parties,  inter 
ested  in  the  event  of  each  particular  proceeding.  To 
the  public,  because,  without  it,  business  would  become 
embarrassed,  trials  interminable,  law  much  more 
expensive,  justice  much  more  uncertain.  To  the 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  161 

party,  because  it  secures  him  the  assistance  of  com 
petent  persons,  who  have  been  led  to  investigate  his 
rights  and  who  know  the  strength  of  the  defences,  by 
which  he  is  justly  encircled  and  protected.  At  first 
sight,  it  may  seem,  for  instance,  a  sort  of  refinement, 
to  one  who  has  not  reflected  on  the  subject,  that  a 
person,  believed  to  have  committed  a  capital  offence, 
should  be  liable  to  be  put  on  trial  but  once  for  his 
life.  Yet  when  it  is  considered,  that  every  man 
ought  to  have  his  offence  clearly  set  before  him,  in 
order  that  he  may  meet  it,  if  he  can  ;  and  that,  for 
the  same  reason,  lie  ought  to  be  proved  guilty  of  that 
specific  offence,  before  he  shall  be  convicted, — it  will 
be  seen,  that,  while  the  public  and  the  accused  arc 
saved  from  the  burthen  of  repeated  prosecutions,  the 
accuracy  of  the  proceedings,  in  every  particular 
instance,  is  made  of  the  greatest  interest  and  conse 
quence  to  all.  And  experience  approves  the  wisdom 
of  the  theory.  And  it  might  be  matter  of  grave 
reflection  to  some  of  our  innovating  law-givers,  that, 
in  fact,  the  subversion  of  substantial  justice  and  the 
insecurity  of  legal  rights  will  be  always  in  exact  pro 
portion  to  that  looseness  of  practice,  which  they  have 
been  so  anxious  to  introduce. 

But  the  matter,  which  we  have  been  considering, 

was  of  a  widely  different  nature.     An  Impeachment 

is   an   event   of  rare  occurrence.     Besides   this,  no 

instance  had  been  known,  in  the  experience  of  any  of 

14* 


162  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

the  parties  engaged  upon  the  occasion  in  question. 
The  accused  was  one,  by  his  position,  constituted  the 
vicegerent  of  a  Power,  by  whom  kings  reign, — upon 
the  broad  principles  of  moral  government,  recognized 
and  applicable,  wherever  the  sun  witnesses  the  beauty 
and  excellence  of  his  daily  providence.  The  offences, 
with  which  he  was  charged,  were  crimes  as  well 
against  the  moral  sentiments  of  mankind,  as  in 
defiance  of  the  express  provisions  of  the  law.  His 
accuser  was  the  voice  of  humanity  itself,  which  for 
fourteen  years  had  echoed  in  the  ears  of  his  country 
men,  across  the  vast  ocean,  which  separates  Asia  from 
Europe.  The  tribunal,  at  which  he  was  arraigned, 
was  rather  patriarchal  than  judicial  in  its  functions  ; 
itself  the  source  of  all  legislation  and  the  supreme 
arbiter  of  right ;  and  though,  of  course,  amenable  to 
the  external  law,  yet  in  its  own  sphere,  subject  to  no 
rules,  except  that  wise  discretion,  with  which  the  pru 
dent  and  just  man  dispenses  government  to  his  own 
household.  Much  of  the  testimony  was  of  that  moral 
weight,  which  always  avails  and  is  enough,  in  the 
ordinary  transactions,  the  intercourse  and  the  busi 
ness  of  society.  The  lookers  on,  in  the  great  spec 
tacle,  were  the  civilized  and  the  uncivilized  world,  all 
competent  to  determine  upon  the  universal  character 
istics  of  inhumanity,  oppression  and  fraud, — without 
confining  themselves  within  those  narrow  limits  of 
construction,  held  requisite  at  the  Old  Bailey  or  Petty 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN    HASTINGS.  163 

Sessions,  in  order  to  convict  some  half-starved  culprit, 
of  a  breach  of  the  game-laws,  or  half  a  shilling's 
worth  of  larceny. 

Besides  his  most  questionable  services  to  his  coun 
try's  cause,  (if  that  cause  be  such  as  honor  and  in 
tegrity  may  fairly  sanction,)  and  his  unprincipled 
extension  of  English  jurisdiction  by  fraud  and  vio 
lence,  not  by  wisdom, — there  are,  after  all,  two  points 
in  the  character  of  Hastings,  to  which  Mr.  Macaulay 
directs  his  reader's  attention.  All  personages,  distin 
guished  as  he  was,  are  known,  of  course,  by  certain 
marked  characteristics  of  fortune  and  disposition.  I 
venture  to  predict,  that  few  would  have  been  likely, 
in  this  relation,  to  hit,  as  Mr.  Macaulay  has  done, 
upon  the  "  want  of  rapacity"  on  the  part  of  Hastings, 
and  his  "  honorable  poverty  !"  He  asserts  the  Gov 
ernor-general  not  to  have  been  rapacious,  because 
the  whole  sum  and  substance  of  his  extortions  were 
not  devoted  to  his  own  individual  benefit.  But  this 
was  manifestly  a  thing  impossible.  Besides,  there 
can  be  nothing  more  fallacious,  than  this  mode  of 
reasoning.  In  fact,  few  men  care  for  money  for  itself 
alone.  The  character  of  a  mere  miser  is  as  rare,  as  it 
is  imamiablc.  The  state  of  miserhood  itself  is  as 
much  a  disease  of  the  mind,  as  any  of  the  other  un 
fortunate  hallucinations,  to  which  human  nature  is 
subject.  But  men,  in  general,  struggle  for  wealth, 
to  secure  the  purposes  of  their  pleasures  and  the  grat- 


164  MR.  MACAULAY  ON  WARREN   HASTINGS. 

ification  of  their  passions ;  for  ambition,  reputation, 
power ;  for  the  interest  of  their  families,  or  to  secure 
comfort  for  their  own  declining  years ;  in  short,  to 
serve  some  kind  of  ulterior  object,  which  the  mere 
possession  of  wealth  unemployed  does  not  and  cannot 
answer.  Hastings  knew  that  he  could  sustain  him 
self  in  power,  only  by  gratifying  the  cupidity  of  those 
who  placed  him  there  ;  and  that  he  could  eventually 
advance  his  personal  objects,  only  by  the  same  means. 
Mr.  Macaulay  excuses  him,  because,  although  he 
seized,  without  cavil,  upon  all  the  money  he  could 
grasp,  he  did  not  see  fit  to  appropriate  the  whole  to 
his  own  individual  use ;  and  urges,  that  he  might 
have  returned  with  a  fortune,  surpassing  that  of  any 
crowned  head  in  Europe.  But  Mr.  Hastings  was 
apparently  wiser,  in  his  day  and  generation,  than  to 
attempt  any  such  quixotical  undertaking.  If  he  had 
done  so,  he  would  never  have  escaped  condemnation. 
He  remembered  that  he  had  other  objects ;  that  his 
conduct  was  closely  scrutinized ;  that  he  had  many 
and  powerful  adversaries,  both  in  Europe  and  Asia ; 
that  he  had  been  already,  in  effect,  once  displaced  for 
abuses ;  that  he  had  finally  been  summoned  home 
from  his  government ;  that,  in  any  event,  in  all  likeli 
hood,  he  would  be  called  to  strict  private,  if  not  public 
reckoning  upon  his  return ;  that  any  flagrant  and 
undisguised  guilt,  of  this  character,  would  deprive 
him  of  his  only  means  of  exculpation  ;  that  it  would 


ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN    HASTINGS.  165 

be  more  easily  appreciable  by  his  judges,  less  readily 
excusable  by  his  immediate  employers,  since  such  a 
dazzling  accumulation  of  plunder  could  have  been 
kept  for  his  own  use,  only  at  their  expense  ; — and  he 
contented  himself  with  bringing  home  a  fortune  of 
only  several  hundred  thousand  pounds !  His  lady, 
indeed,  had  acquired  a  large  additional  and  private 
treasure,  by  the  same  justifiable  means, — without  his 
connivance,  says  Mr.  Macaulay, — but  this  could  hardly 
be.  His  "honorable  poverty"  had  been  endured  in 
India,  during  fourteen  years,  on  a  salary  of  £25,000, 
besides  great  opportunities.  Moderation  is  undoubt 
edly  a  noble  and  an  honorable  quality ;  but  I  should 
hardly  think  of  claiming  it  for  that  man,  as  a  special 
virtue,  who,  having  the  chance  presented  of  filling 
all  his  pockets  with  other  people's  money,  contents 
himself  with  filling  only  one,  on  account  of  the  diffi 
culty  of  carrying  the  whole  safely  away.  The  bulk 
of  the  mutual  acquisitions  of  Hastings  and  his  lady 
was  finally  expended  in  conciliatory  presents,  and  in 
the  preparation  for  and  conduct  of  the  defence.  His 
affairs  fell  into  some  confusion,  and  he  was  assisted 
with  loans  by  the  Company,  who  settled  upon  him 
eventually  a  sufficient  pension.  He  regained  his  pa 
ternal  estate  of  Daylesford,  but  the  title  was  never 
revived  in  his  favor.  As  one  of  the  most  striking 
instances,  011  record,  of  the  caprice  and  injustice  of 
popular  opinion ;  when  he  was  summoned  to  the  bar 


166  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN    HASTINGS. 

of  the  Commons,  in  1813,  to  give  evidence  relative  to 
Indian  affairs,  the  House,  (that  is,  the  successors  of 
those,  who  once  tried  and  virtually  convicted  him  of 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanors)  rose  and  stood  un 
covered  in  his  presence.  Supposing  him  to  have  been 
only  the  doubtful  character,  which  the  most  favorable 
history  claims,  it  was  to  their  indelible  disgrace. 
Some  of  his  old  antagonists  were  still  there.  They 
pulled  their  hats  over  their  brows,  and  kept  their 
places. 

It  seems  to  have  been  matter  of  much  occasional 
speculation  in  England,  what  were  the  real  motives, 
which  induced  Mr.  Burke  to  take  so  deep  an  interest 
in  this  great  question,  and  to  maintain,  in  regard  to 
it,  a  position  of  such  uncompromising  and  determined 
perseverance ;  or,  to  state  the  question  in  the  only 
shape,  which  could  make  wonder  on  this  subject  jus 
tifiable, — for 

—  what  stranger  cause  yet  unexplored, — 

so  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Burke  could  pursue  with  such 
unrelenting  indignation  so  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Has 
tings  !  I  pass  by  the  fact,  that  Sheridan  and  Fox, 
and  others  of  high  name,  men  of  minds  less  pure  and 
principles  less  sound  than  his,  were  with  him,  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  in  the  progress  of  the  prose 
cution.  I  omit  also  the  consideration  of  the  point, 
that  a  similar  question,  with  all  its  attendant  circum 
stances,  seldom,  if  ever,  has  so  forced  itself  upon  the 


MR.  MACAULAY    ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  167 

attention  of  mankind.  Private  hostility  and  a  hun 
dred  other  inadequate,  improbable  and  unfounded 
motives  have  been  suggested,  to  account  for  a  course 
of  conduct,  which  resulted  from  the  clear  qualities  of 
Burke's  character,  and  which  lies  upon  the  surface  of 
the  facts  involved  in  the  case.  To  the  investigation 
of  these  he  himself  avers,  that  he  brought  the  scrutiny, 
the  reflection  and  the  devoted  and  untiring  labor  of 
many  years. 

From  all  these  supererogatory  imputations  Mr. 
Macaulay  handsomely  justifies  him.  He  eloquently 
alleges  that  great  man's  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  history,  government,. manners,  and  all  the  public 
and  private  relations  of  the  Asiatics.  He  supposes 
him  to  have  been  actuated  only  by  the  highest,  the 
purest  and  most  honorable  considerations ;  but  sug 
gests  the  kind  of  coloring,  with  which  his  imagination 
invested  the  subject-matter,  which  he  had  so  much  at 
heart.  The  real  question  is,  whether  the  Grand  In 
quest,  thus  summoned  to  serious  duty,  in  the  mind  of 
Mr.  Burke,  did,  in  fact,  "  present  things  truly."  And, 
indeed,  this  appears  to  have  been  the  actual  purpose, 
for  which  this  much-abused  faculty,  this  misunder 
stood  imagination,  was  made  part  and  parcel  of  the 
human  character ;  to  exhibit  the  distant,  the  past  and 
the  future, — things  in  which  we  have  the  highest 
interest,  though  they  are  remote  and  invisible,  in 
their  true  aspect  of  real  and  absolute  existences. 


168  ME.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

Without  it,  to  some  reasonable  extent,  heaven  and 
hell,  the  absent  and  the  lost,  would  be  to  us  indeed 
unmeaning  and  most  unsubstantial  incomprehensibil 
ities.  The  enjoyment  of  this  faculty,  unalloyed  by 
selfishness  or  any  baser  interest  or  bias,  enabled  Mr. 
Burke  to  see  things,  precisely  as  they  were  to  be  ap 
prehended  by  the  mind,  rather  than  the  senses ;  to 
grasp  the  true  character  and  bearing  of  events  in 
India,  just  as  if  they  had  occurred  at  his  own  fireside. 
Xo  doubt,  it  is  the  want  of  this  quality,  in  some  meas 
ure,  which  leaves  men  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the 
influences,  which  enabled  him  to  see  and  to  tell  the 
truth.  And  it  was  this  want,  to  a  certain  extent, 
combined  with  the  thousand  other  easily-understood 
considerations,  which  led  to  the  final  discharge  of 
Hastings.  It  is  felt,  as  a  great  misfortune,  sometimes, 
that  criminals  should  escape,  through  the  interests  of 
men,  or  their  incapacity  rightly  to  appreciate  what 
the  purity  of  justice  would  require.  But,  in  fact,  if 
there  were  no  Mr.  Burkes  in  the  world,  or  men  of 
similar,  if  inferior  characteristics,  such  persons  would 
always  escape,  except  so  far  as  interest,  vengeance,  or 
some  other  private  passion  pursued  them  to  doom. 
To  cultivate  and  honor  this  qiiality,  therefore,  to  every 
reasonable  degree,  would  seem  to  be  a  sort  of  neces 
sity  of  society,  in  order  to  raise  and  support  what  in 
it  is  low.  For,  as  observation  will  teach  us,  that  the 
mind  of  the  individual  man,  when  entirely  devoid  of 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS,  169 

imagination,  scarcely  comes  up  to  the  nobler  instincts 
of  many  inferior  animals, — so  society,  without  a  due 
intermixture  of  this  temperament,  by  a  certain  nat- 
ural  and  necessary  consequence,  becomes  corrupted, 
degraded,  selfish, — "  earthly,  sensual,  devilish."  For 
imagination  is  the  handmaid  of  reason,  as  woman  is 
the  helpmeet  of  man, — and  neither  is  capable  of  be 
ing  compared  with  the  other,  upon  any  definite  clas 
sification  of  their  respective  attributes ;  but  the  one 
continually  serves  the  purpose  of  opening  new  vistas 
of  immortal  prospect,  outside  of  the  ordinary  range 
of  merely  sensible  thought,  as  the  other  equally  in 
spires  emotions,  tending  to  the  essential  elevation  of 
the  human  character,  and  which,  otherwise,  would  lie 
sunken  and  undiscovered  in  the  depths  of  the  natural 
being. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  public  history  of  Hastings,  in 
a  manner  only  too  fully  warranted  by  the  ample 
evidence  on  record.  It  occurred  to  me  to  take  up 
the  subject  in  some  detail,  partly,  because  an  arti 
cle  like  that  of  Mr.  Macaulay  appeared  capable  of 
effecting  considerable  mischief,  and  partly,  because  I 
conceived  it  not  inappropriate  to  the  times  to  show, 
that  all  the  sin  of  the  world  did  not  rest  upon  the 
consciences  of  the  American  people  ;  and  that,  al 
though  it  affords  no  apology  for  our  own  offences, 
yet,  considering  the  extent  and  nature  of  the  ex 
cesses  committed,  at  no  very  distant  period,  in  Asia, 
15 


170  MB.  MACAULAY   ON   WARRPJN    HASTINGS. 

and  excused  if  not  approved  by  the  legislative  author 
ity  of  England,  the  people  of  that  country  are  not 
perhaps  so  much  entitled,  as  if  their  skirts  were  clear, 
to  fold  their  broad  phylactericd  robes  about  them, 
and  to  stalk  away,  justified,  as  if  from  some  unholy 
contact. 

And  I  do  not  admit  the  validity  of  the  kind  of 
defence,  which  is  pretended  to  be  set  up  for  Hastings, 
by  those  who  would  palliate  his  conduct.  A  bad 
man  may  be  made  the  instrument  of  bringing  about 
some  good,  but  yet  he  is  a  bad  man.  He,  who  with 
the  power  of  doing  unlimited  evil,  carries  it  only 
partly  into  execution,  of  course,  is  deserving  of  less 
severe  condemnation,  than  one  who  is  utterly  and 
irretrievably  depraved.  But,  in  truth,  the  world 
affords  very  few  examples  of  such  monsters,  for 
whom  there  is  no  means  of  urging  some  possibility  of 
extenuation  ;  and  I  know  not  where  to  look  for  them, 
unless,  perhaps,  under  the  Roman  Empire,  amongst 
several  of  the  more  tiger-like  than  human  successors 
to  the  Julian  purple.  Yet  if,  on  the  tomb  of  Nero, 
some  imknown  hand  strewed  flowers,  it  ought  not  to 
surprise  us,  that  apologists  should  be  found  for  the 
enormities  of  Warren  Hastings.  In  our  moral  judg 
ment  of  men,  since  we  are  all  only  too  frail  and 
liable  to  temptation  and  error,  it  is  surely  becoming 
to  exercise  every  reasonable  degree  of  charity  and 
fair  interpretation.  But  when  we  cannot  help  per- 


MB.  MACAULAY   ON    WARREN   HASTINGS.  171 

caiving  an  immense  preponderance  of  evil,  and  that 
good  or  bad  conduct  alike  are  pursued  only  for  sel 
fish  ends,  it  Avould  be  something  more  than  weakness 
to  bring  to  it  either  palliation  or  defence. 

"  His  principles,"  admits  Mr.  Macaulay,  "  were 
somewhat  lax.  His  heart  was  somewhat  hard.  We 
cannot  with  truth  describe  him  either  as  a  righteous 
or  a  merciful  ruler.  Those  who  look  on 

his  character  without  favor  or  malevolence,  will  pro 
nounce,  that,  in  the  two  great  elements  of  all  social 
virtue, — in  respect  for  the  rights  of  others  and  in 
sympathy  for  the  sufferings  of  others,  he  was  de 
ficient."  One  would  think  that  this  were  enough  ! 
Unprincipled  and  hard-hearted,  unrighteous  and  un 
merciful  !  Regardless  of  other  men's  rights  and  un- 
pitying  towards  their  calamities !  And  being  thus 
apparently  out  of  the  pale  of  those  ordinary  and 
necessary  attributes  of  our  nature,  which  both  human 
and  divine  requirement  make  essential  to  a  man, 
much  more  to  a  ruler,  he  did  not  deserve, — at  least 
the  kind  of  article,  in  which  he  has  been  incidentally 
eulogized  by  Mr.  Macaulay. 

To  allege  him  to  have  been  a  statesman,  in  any 
just  sense  of  the  language,  appears  to  me  to  be  absurd. 
His  successes,  such  as  they  were,  may  be  sufficiently 
accounted  for,  on  other  principles.  "  The  world," 
remarks  Dr.  Johnson,  "  has  been  long  amused  by  the 
mention  of  policy  in  public  transactions,  and  of  art, 


172  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

in  private  affairs ;  they  have  been  considered  as  the 
real  effects  of  great  qualities,  and  as  unattainable  by 
men  of  the  common  level.  Yet  I  have  not  found 
many  performances,  either  of  art  or  policy,  that  re 
quired  such  stupendous  efforts  of  intellect,  as  might 
not  have  been  effected  by  falsehood  and  impudence, 
without  the  assistance  of  any  other  powers."  What 
the  best  of  statesmen  arc,  upon  the  recognized  prin 
ciples  of  society,  involves  a  definition  of  qualities,  to 
which  there  is  no  parallel  in  the  character  we  have 
been  considering.  He  is  no  more  entitled  to  the 
distinction  of  this  name,  than  the  other  unprincipled 
and  unscrupulous  tyrants,  who  spread  dominion  over 
the  defenceless  by  conquest,  who  awe  the  weak  by 
power,  and  extend  empire  by  violence,  and  are  great, 
only  because  they  are  successful.  What  a  statesman 
ought  to  be,  it  might  perhaps,  in  these  days,  appear 
somewhat  invidious  to  inquire.  In  England,  to  re 
gard  the  interest,  to  maintain  the  liberty,  to  promote 
the  happiness  of  all  classes  of  his  countrymen  ;  to  be 
less  ambitious  of  foreign  conquest,  than  of  contented 
peace  at  home  ;  to  uphold  justice,  that  first  great  law 
of  earth  and  heaven  ;  to  encourage  moderation,  to 
repress  jealousies,  and  by  reasonable  concession,  to 
avert  impending  revolution — in  India, — if  Provi 
dence  had  called  him  to  preside  over  the  destinies  of 
infinite  millions  of  mankind, — by  a  liberal  wisdom 
and  a  wholesome  integrity  ;  by  the  maintenance  of 


MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS.  173 

those  virtues,  which  men  are  bound  to  practise ;  by 
the  exhibition  of  principles,  whose  acknowledged 
theory  our  conduct  denies  ;  by  proving  that  truths  of 
more  than  momentary  importance  weigh  somewhat 
upon  our  minds ;  to  show  that  we  are  indeed  desirous 
of  promoting  instead  of  impeding  the  great  purposes, 
for  which  the  Almighty  created  and  sustains  the 
world, — the  welfare  and  happiness  of  all  his  crea 
tures — 

Th'  applause  of  listening  senates  to  command, 
The  threats  of  pain  and  ruin  to  despise, 

To  scatter  plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land, 
And  read  their  history  in  a  nation's  eyes. 

And,  if  we  are  told,  that  this  is  only  ideal, — never 
heard  of  in  Calcutta, — never  dreamed  about  in  Down 
ing  Street,  or  at  Washington, — it  is  only  because 
Truth  has  become  ideal,  through  the  corruptions  and 
abominations  of  political  machinations ;  because  mod 
ern  usages  have  converted  things,  in  their  origin 
good,  into  the  worst  of  evils  ;  have  debased  politics, 
from  being  the  noblest  of  sciences,  into  the  meanest  of 
arts  ;  have  made  government  a  treachery  and  diplo 
macy  a  fraud. 

Indeed,  I  am  acquainted  with  no  stronger  in 
stance,  than  the  one  thus  presented,  of  the  danger 
of  reposing  great  trusts  in  the  hands  of  men,  whose 
minds  have  neither  been  subdued  by  religion,  nor 
disciplined  and  controlled  by  learning.  For  while 
15* 


174  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN    HASTINGS. 

true  religion  tends  to  the  repression  of  all  false  am 
bition,  true  learning  elevates  and  directs  that  which 
is  purest,  by  storing  the  mind  with  the  generous  and 
honorable  precepts  of  those  who  have  gone  before. 
Besides  discouraging  the  emotions  of  interest  and 
vanity,  it  sets  before  us  the  highest  examples  of  truth 
and  virtue  ;  and  he  would  be  least  likely  to  corrupt 
the  manners  or  pervert  the  liberties  of  his  country, 
who  enters  upon  the  scene  of  his  duties,  from  the 
company  of  philosophers,  orators  and  sages,  and  all 
who  have  best  illustrated  whatever  is  noble,  disinter 
ested  and  dignified  in  the  character  of  man. 

And  yet  Mr.  Macaulay,  in  language  both  touching 
and  beautiful,  deplores  that  the  dust,  which  Hastings 
had  dishonored,  did  not  find  its  last  repose  under  the 
cloistered  arches  of  Westminster  Abbey  !  And  though 
a  life  of  crime,  even  in  high  places,  would  seem  de 
serving  of  no  better  doom  than  a  death  of  infamy,  and 
though  Jezebel,  (to  use  one  of  those  scriptural  illus 
trations,  to  which  Mr.  Macaulay  is  so  partial)  even  a 
king's  daughter,  was  eaten  by  dogs  in  the  portion  of 
Jezreel — yet,  in  '  this  temple  of  silence  and  recon 
ciliation'  he  would  build  a  trophy  to  the  memory  of 
Hastings  :  to  point  out  to  the  ingenuous  youth  of 
England,  how  a  bad  man,  under  the  sanction  of  the 
Church  itself,  can  be  honored  in  his  monument,  when 
honors  are  useless,  except  as  instructions  to  the 
living ;  to  teach  them.  that,  iSpartan-like,  they  may 


MB.  MACAULAY   ON   WAEREN   HASTINGS.  175 

steal,  if,  with  a  high  hand  and  an  unblushing  front, 
they  secure  success  in  their  villany ;  to  confound  the 
difference,  never  too  broadly  marked,  in  human  eyes, 
between  virtue  and  vice  ;  to  draw  a  veil  of  still  more 
impenetrable  darkness,  before  that  light,  never  too 
effulgent,  through  a  worldly  medium,  which  helps  us 
to  discriminate  between  right  and  wrong ! 

Had  he  really  been  admitted  into  that  sublime 
sanctuary  of  philosophers,  heroes  and  poets,  where, 
side  by  side,  sleep  the  rulers  of  England,  each  one  in 
his  own  place, — he  might  indeed  have  been  welcomed 
by  much  society,  well  enough  suited  to  such  a  guest, 
—the  Tudor  and  the  Plantagenet,  '  the  stern  Edwards 
and  the  fierce  Henries,' — and  if  equal  merit  had 
forever  met  with  equal  reward,  amid  the  silence  and 
nothingness,  where  all  men  finally  sleep  together  in 
the  grave,  he  might  there  have  lain  down  in  company 
with  the  grasping  and  perfidious  John, — the  bloody 
Mary, — Richard,  the  crafty  usurper, — and  him,  per 
haps,  the  worst,  whose  brutal  and  unmanly  tyranny 
neither  learning  softened  nor  religion  restrained, — 
and  all  they  from  beneath  might  have  been  moved  to 
meet  him  at  his  coming  !  But  if  the  guardians  of  the 
temple  have  no  privilege  to  exclude  delinquent  royalty 
from  its  precincts,  they  might  well  scruple  at  affording 
such  a  consummation  to  the  obsequies  of  Hastings. 
If  much  that  is  unworthy  necessarily  reposes  in  those 
solemn  shadows  ;  if  they  who  are  there,  were  not  free 


176  MR.  MACAULAY   ON   WARREN   HASTINGS. 

from  the  errors,  the  failings,  the  vices  of  men, — at 
least,  it  is  well  they  should  be  such,  that  the  first  sug 
gestion  of  their  names,  the  first  aspect  of  their  mau 
soleums  should  associate  itself  with  something  that  is 
honorable,  agreeable  or  praiseworthy,  in  the  history 
of  mankind.  But  there,  where  the  first  promptings 
of  an  ambition,  commendable  if  it  had  been  generous, 
dawned  upon  his  youthful  mind, — there,  where,  after 
the  lapse  of  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  century > 
his  somewhat  frivolous  old  age  submitted  to  the  "  in 
evitable  hour," — let  him,  who  desires  to  honor  the 
memory  of  Hastings,  bend  over  his  tomb,  in  silence 
and  alone,  amidst  the  solitary  obscurity  of  the  chancel 
of  Daylesford. 


ADDRESS 

BEFORE     THE 

MASSACHUSETTS  HORTICULTURAL  SOCIETY 

ON     THE 

DEDICATION  OF  HORTICULTURAL  HALL,  BOSTON, 
MAY  15,  1845. 


MR.  PRESIDENT,  AND  GENTLEMEN  OF  THE  SOCIETY  : — 

IT  is  a  touching,  and  to  some  of  you,  perhaps, 
familiar  incident,  which  is  related  of  a  celebrated 
English  traveller,*  whose  genius  and  misfortunes 
have  long  closely  allied  him  with  every  human  sym 
pathy.  He  had  penetrated  the  interior  solitudes  of 
Africa,  in  pursuance  of  his  first  adventurous  research 
es  into  that  distant  and  mysterious  land.  He  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  vast  deserts  of  a  barbarous  clime, 
hundreds  of  miles  away  from  the  very  outskirts  of 
civilization,  and  surrounded  on  every  side  by  the 
beasts  of  the  wilderness,  and  by  men  scarcely  less 
ferocious.  He  had  suffered  every  privation  and  every 
ill.  He  was  alone  in  the  dismal  waste,  with  a  worn 
and  failing  body  and  a  sinking  mind.  It  was  while 

*  Park. 


178  DEDICATION   OF   HOETICULTURAL    HALL. 

the  chance  of  life  appeared  a  thing  almost  too  hope 
less  for  conjecture,  and  a  thousand  natural  emotions 
thronged  upon  his  soul ;  while  the  present  seemed  to 
crowd  into  its  narrow  hour  the  accumulated  memories 
of  all  the  past,  and  offered  him  but  the  prospect  of  a 
miserable  death  upon  the  barren  sands,  for  the  home 
which  he  had  left  with  such  eager  and  buoyant  ex 
pectations,  and  the  loved  and  lovely  things  he  might 
behold  no  more — it  was  at  this  moment  of  desponden 
cy  and  distress,  that  an  object  caught  his  eye,  which, 
perhaps,  from  the  heedless  or  the  happy,  would 
scarcely  have  attracted  a  passing  glance.  It  was  a 
small  moss,  of  extraordinary  beauty,  in  the  process  of 
germination ;  and,  as  he  contemplated  the  delicate 
conformation  of  its  roots  and  leaves,  the  thought 
forced  itself  irresistibly  upon  his  mind,  that  the  same 
bountiful  and  eternal  Providence,  which  protected 
this  minute  but  lovely  object  in  obscurity  so  com 
plete,  and  in  the  region  of  perpetual  barrenness, 
could  not  be  unmindful  of  one  of  his  intelligent  be 
ings,  the  highest  in  the  scale  of  natural  creation,  for" 
whose  use  and  benefit  the  system  of  visible  nature 
was  itself  ordained.  It  was  the  reflection  thus  sug 
gested  which  banished  his  despair,  and  nerved  his 
heart  to  those  renewed  efforts,  which  secured  his 
eventual  return  to  his  native  land. 

There  could  be  no  more  striking  illustration  than 
this,  of  the  benevolent  order  of  the  universe ;  which 


DEDICATION    OP    HORTICULTURAL    HALL.  179 

so  often  vindicates  itself  under  circumstances  appar 
ently  fortuitous,  by  demonstrating  the  purpose  and 
value  of  those  things,  whose  utility  a  cold  philosophy 
had  endeavored  to  discover  in  vain.     It  were,  indeed, 
too  much  to  say,  that  the  minutest  atom  which  floats 
in  infinite  space,  or  the  meanest  flower  that  blows 
upon  the  bosom  of  nature,  has  been  created  for  no 
valuable  end.     If  the  purposes  of  existence  were  less 
than  they  really  arc,  in  the  eye  of  reason  and  enlight 
ened  philosophy,  we  might  have  been  subjected  to  a 
-very  different   constitution   of  outward   things.     To 
surround  us  merely  with  those  objects,  which  might 
minister  to  our  actual  necessities,  were  to  deprive  our 
senses  themselves  of  their  very  noblest  attributes,  and 
to  contract  within  the  narrowest  limits  the  circle  of 
our  capacities  and  desires.     Take  from  us,  indeed, 
those  lovely  manifestations  of  external  beauty  ;  those 
sweet,   and   graceful  and   glorious   creations,  which 
tend  much  more,  perhaps,  to  the  promotion  of  our 
present  happiness,  as  well  as  to  the  perfection  of  our 
immortal  destiny,  than  all  which  the  world  counts 
most  worthy  of  its   pursuit, — and   our   minds  were 
dark,  and  our  hearts  dead  within  us,  instead  of  kin 
dling  with  the  glowing  earth,  as,  radiant  with  bright 
ness  and  beauty,  she  smiles  to  meet  the  embraces  of 
the  returning  Spring. 

The  very  savage,  indeed,  must  derive  some  moral 
elevation  from  the  contemplation  of  external  nature. 


180  DEDICATION    OF    HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

For  his  untutored  soul,  as  well  as  for  the  mind  of  the 
most  cultivated  student  of  the  works  of  creation ,  that 
orient  pavilion,  flushed  with  a  thousand  gorgeous  and 
shifting  hues,  from  whose  refulgent  portals  issue  the 
outgoings  of  the  morning  ;  the  deepening  loveliness  of 
that  softer  heaven,  which  ushers  universal  nature  to 
repose ;  the  changing  year,  as  its  advancing  seasons 
ripen  into  mellower  beauty; — yes,  all  and  each,  with 
in  the  rudest  recesses  of  the  primeval  wilderness,  as 
well  as  amidst  the  refinements  of  a  more  polished 
condition  of  life,  in  their  turn  have  given  wing  to  a 
sublimer  imagination,  have  widened  the  sphere  of  in 
tellectual  exertion,  and  dignified  the  reflections  and  as 
pirations  of  the  moral  being.  The  Indian  maiden,  who 
decks  her  jetty  tresses  with  the  wild  flowers  plucked 
by  the  margin  of  the  forest  brook,  drinks  in  from  them 
the  same  images  of  grace,  fragility  and  beauty,  which 
they  are  fitted  to  inspire  in  the  proudest  bosom  that 
beats  in  regal  halls  ;  where  every  silken  tint  that  art 
has  curiously  embroidered,  and  every  radiant  gleam 
that  glitters  from  clustered  gems,  were  incomplete 
without  these  simpler  charms,  furnished  by  the  cheap 
provision  of  nature,  yet  more  resplendent  in  their 
freshness,  than  the  array  of  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  ! 
But  if  such  be  the  universal  influence  of  natural 
beauty ;  if  over  even  the  soul  of  a  barbarian  it  exerts 
this  inborn  power  to  charm  the  imagination  and  ele 
vate  the  mind  ;  surely,  amidst  the  hourly  cares,  which 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTUKAL   HALL.  181 

in  more  civilized  life  press  upon  the  hearts  of  men, 
they  can  find  no  relief  so  easily  attained,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  so  refreshing  and  salutary,  as  the  contem 
plation  of  those  lovely  things,  which  our  common 
mother,  for  the  common  use  and  entertainment  of 
her  children,  hangs  sparkling  with  dew-drops  upon 
every  tree,  or  flings  with  bounteous  profusion  over 
her  luxuriant  bosom. 

Whoever  enters  upon  the  attentive  examination  of 
these  objects,  in  the  spirit  of  rational  philosophy,  will 
be  certain  to  attain  a  reward  at  least  commensurate 
with  his  exertions  ;.  for,  if  it  acquire  him  no  other  pos 
session,  it  cannot  but  bring  him  that  priceless  one,  of 
an  innocent  heart  and  a  gentle  mind  ;  and  a  student 
of  nature,  who  should  become  sensual  and  debased, 
would  present  as  strange  an  anomaly  as  an  undevout 
astronomer. 

Indeed,  the  constitution  of  the  mind  itself  is  im 
bued  with  the  spirit  of  love  for  natural  beauty. 
And  sad  were  his  lot,  who  has  so  entirely  lost  this 
impress  originally  stamped  by  the  hand  of  God  upon 
the  soul  of  man, — who  is  so  thoroughly  "  of  the  earth, 
earthy,"  as  to  have  forfeited  all  conscious  enjoyment 
of  the  glorious  creation  around  him,  crowned  by  every 
revolving  season  with  its  own  peculiar  magnificence 
and  beauty.  Of  the  tendency  of  many  of  the  great 
pursuits  of  life  to  render  us  sordid  and  selfish,  if 
they  are  modified  by  no  controlling  influence,  the  fact 
J6 


182  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

is  only  too  apparent.  The  very  refinements  of  our 
social  being  corrupt  as  well  as  polish.  The  human 
character  insensibly  dwindles  amidst  the  pursuits  of 
civilized  society.  The  range  of  our  feelings  becomes 
contracted  under  the  weight  of  the  conventionalisms 
of  life.  The  sphere  of  thought  itself  grows  narrower, 
in  the  plodding  routine  of  daily  occupations.  Con 
fined  amongst  the  converging  thoroughfares  of  popu 
lous  existence,  the  man  becomes  almost  necessarily 
assimilated,  in  thought  and  habit,  to  those  with  whom 
he  is  associated.  He  unconsciously  conforms,  and 
often  degrades  his  being  by  conforming,  to  the  set 
tled  maxims  and  theories  around  him  ;  until, 

Like  a  drop  of  water, 
That  in  the  ocean  seeks  another  drop, — 

he  confounds  himself,  and  loses  the  identity  of  his 
own  peculiar  and  perhaps  nobler  characteristics. 

Consider,  then,  the  mother  of  the  seasons  in  some 
of  her  infinite  manifestations.  You  wander  into  the 
fresh  fields  and  gather  the  flowers  of  spring.  In 
crystal  vases,  resting,  it  may  be,  upon  sculptured 
marble,  you  cherish  these  frail  children  of  the  sun 
and  showers.  You  renew  them  before  they  wither, 
and  gaze  with  exquisite  delight  upon  their  delicate 
texture  and  the  manifold  perfection  of  their  mingling 
hues.  They  appeal  forever  to  your  inmost  heart,  as 
silent  mementos  of  all  things  sweet,  and  beautiful, 


DEDICATION  OF  HORTICULTURAL  HALL.     183 

and  pure.  They  are  eloquent  of  perpetual  suggestions 
to  the  answering  soul.  They  fill  your  mind  more 
than  all  that  lives  upon  the  canvas  of  the  mightiest 
master.  The  least  and  meanest  of  them  all  more 
satisfies  your  imagination,  than  the  choicest  statue 
wrought  by  the  divinest  hand.  To  your  cultivated 
mind  they  address  themselves,  in  their  momentary 
beauty,  like  images  of  things  more  perfect  in  immor 
tal  loveliness.  They  are  emblems  of  the  affinities  of 
your  moral  being  with  whatever  is  complete  in  infinite 
glory  beyond  the  skies.  Like  the  eternal  stars,  that, 
on  the  brow  of  midnight,  assure  us,  with  their  un 
speakable  effulgence,  that  Heaven  and  its  hopes  are 
yet  there,  so  these,  the  stars  of  earth,  spring  upon  her 
verdant  bosom,  the  mute  memorials  of  an  inscrutable 
immortality.  In  the  humble  dwelling-place  of  the 
poorest  laborer,  in  some  crowded  city's  dim  alley,  into 
which  the  golden  light  of  day  pours  scarcely  one  beam 
of  all  his  abounding  and  pervading  flood,  you  may 
often  discern  some  simple  flower,  which  indicates  the 
longing  of  our  more  spiritual  being ;  which  recalls 
to  the  mind's  eye  of  the  wearied  man  the  green  fields 
of  his  boyish  days,  and  impresses  him  again  and 
again, — oh,  not  in  vain ! — with  the  gentler  and  purer 
emotions  of  his  childhood.  They  come  upon  him, 
amidst  the  dust  and  heat,  and  perhaps  the  wretched 
ness,  of  his  daily  lot,  like  outward  manifestations 


184  DEDICATION    OP   HORTICULTURAL    HALL. 

of  the  inner  spirit-world.  They  are  the  signals  of 
thoughts 

Commercing  with  the  skies. 

They  arc  like  gleams  of  a  fairer  and  brighter  sunshine, 
from  realms  "  beyond  the  visible  diurnal  sphere." 

The  time  docs,  indeed,  come  to  all  men,  when  they 
would  gladly  escape  from  the  crowd  and  confusion  of 
common  life,  and 

Forth  issuing  on  a  summer's  morn,  to  breathe 
Among  the  pleasant  villages  and  farms, 

would  forget  the  thronging  cares  which  have  exhaust 
ed  their  hearts,  in  company  with  the  lilies  of  the  field, 
that  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin.  It  is,  indeed,  by 
influences  such  as  these  that  we  acquire  not  only 
fresher  impulses  to  duty,  but  far  higher  and  nobler 
principles  of  action.  Experience,  it  is  true,  teaches 
us  that  the  mere  drudgery  of  rural  pursuits  can  have 
little  effect,  in  raising  the  private  or  social  condition 
of  the  man.  To  turn  the  verdant  soil,  for  the  mere 
sustenance  of  life,  would  as  little  impress  his  mind 
with  the  true  sentiment  of  his  occupation,  as  any 
poetical  idea  of  the  gloomy  grandeur  of  ocean  enters 
into  the  soul  of  the  tempest-tost  and  weather-worn 
mariner.  The  rustic  laborer  might  forever  follow  his 
plough  upon  the  mountain  side,  and  trample  with 
heedless  foot  upon  the  brightest  flowers,  that  appealed 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  185 

with  dewy  eyes  in  vain  to  his  plodding  sensibilities ; 
and  the  village  maiden,  obeying  those  truer  and 
nobler  instincts,  inseparable,  I  believe,  from  every 
woman's  heart,  with  every  returning  Spring,  might 
gather  and  weave  them  into  her  rustic  coronal,  with 
no  definite  consciousness  of  their  more  spiritual  im 
port.  But  to  fulfil  their  highest  ministry  they  must 
have  become  blended  with  their  kindred  associations. 
They  must  have  linked  themselves,  as  they  have  done, 
with  the  domestic,  and  public  and  religious  story  of 
the  world.  Their  sweet  and  gentle  names  must  have 
floated  upon  the  voice  of  song.'  They  must  have 
given  language  of  eloquent  significance  to  the  pas 
sionate  impulses  of  the  human  heart.  They  must 
have  spoken  of  the  fragility  of  life,  under  that  sweetest 
and  most  touching  of  all  sad  similitudes, — a  fading 
flower.  They  must  have  crowned  the  wine-cup, 
amidst  the  revels  of  "  towered  cities,"  and  mingled 
with  the  sunny  locks  of  the  queen  of  May,  upon  the 
village  green.  They  must  have  waved  upon  the  brow 
of  the  returning  victor,  wreathed  their  modest  tints 
amongst  the  tresses  of  the  blushing  bride,  and  re 
posed  in  pale  and  tranquil  beauty  upon  the  marble 
bosom  of  death.  They  must  have  proved  their  power 
to  sound  the  secret  well-springs  of  our  hearts,  and  to 
draw  up  the  sweeter  waters  beneath,  hidden,  as  with 
a  veil,  by  the  intertangled  sophistications  and  false 
hoods  of  the  world.  They  must  have  been  won  from 
36* 


186  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL    HALL. 

their  wild  and  unseen  solitudes,  and  nurtured  and 
cherished  with  a  dear  and  reverent  love. 

But  much  as  we  love  to  meet  them  in  their  green 
retreats,  on  the  fragrant  meadow,  by  the  rural  road 
side,  or  in  the  wild  recesses  of  the  rocks,  it  is  as  the 
friends  and  companions  of  our  daily  duties,  that  we 
most  welcome  their  sweet  and  holy  ministry.  Nur 
tured  by  our  own  hands,  they  become  indeed  the 
faithful  solace  of  our  cares,  and  the  rich  reward  of  all 
our  pleasant  toil.  And  then,  how  more  than  strange 
is  this  wonderful  result  with  which  beneficent  Nature 
repays  our  fostering  charge  !  What  miracle  so  mar 
vellous,  as  this  mysterious  development,  which  we  so 
disregard,  because  we  call  it  the  common  course  and 
order  of  creation !  When  the  returning  season  fills 
our  hearts  anew  with  its  returning  hopes,  we  take  the 
unsightly  and  insignificant  seed.  We  bury  it  out  of 
our  sight  beneath  the  dark,  insensate  earth.  The 
dews  and  the  showers  fall  upon  wrhat  might  well  seem 
to  be  its  eternal  bed.  The  sun  reaches  its  secret  rest 
ing  place  with  a  vital  and  incomprehensible  energy. 
It  awakens  from  its  slumber,  and  no  apparent  ele 
ments  of  its  original  conformation  remain.  It  starts 
into  being,  developing  newer  and  ever-varying  aspects, 
—till 

from  the  root 

Springs  lighter  the  green  stalk,  from  thence  the  leaves 
More  aery,  last  the  bright  consummate  flower 
Spirits  odorous  breathes. 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  187 

And  then,  what  human  philosophy  is  competent  to 
explain  the  unseen  cause,  which,  from  elements  ap 
parently  so  inadequate,  brings  up  the  slender  and 
tapering  shaft,  shoots  forth  the  verdant  leaf,  and  em 
bellishes  its  lustrous  crown  with  inimitable  purple,  or 
the  flowering  gold  !  What  wonderful  chemistry  is 
this,  which  so  niters  the  moisture  of  the  earth  and  the 
dew  of  heaven,  and  combines  and  diffuses  the  just 
proportions  of  tho  vital  air  through  every  intricate 
fibre,  till  it  blushes  in  the  bloom  of  the  queenly  Rose, 
and  makes  the  virgin  Lily  the  emblem  of  purity  and 
light !  With  what  unerring  skill  they  are  blended  or 
contrasted,  in  their  infinite  variety  of  "  quaint  enam 
elled  dyes  " !  With  what  exquisite  order  and  precision 
their  gorgeous  retinue  appears,  each  at  its  accustomed 
season,  and  gathers  the  successive  harvest  of  its  tran 
sient  glory  ! 

Daffodils, 

That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty ;  violets  dim 
But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes 
Or  Cytherca's  breath  ;  pale  primroses, 
That  die  unmarried  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phoebus  in  his  strength ;         *         * 
*         *         *         bold  oxlips,  and 
The  crown-imperial ;  lilies  of  all  kinds, 
The  flower-de-luce  being  one. 

Of  all  the  gentle  and  welcome  company,  not  one  but 
lifts  its  starry  cup  or  hangs  its  clustering  bells  upon 


188  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL  HALL. 

the  spiral  stem.  And  oh,  still  stranger  transforma 
tion,  when  this  treasured  darling  of  an  hour,  so  rich 
in  glowing  charms  and  fragrant  with  delicious  sweet 
ness,  yields  to  the  immutable  law  of  its  destiny,  re 
folds  the  vital  principle  of  its  being  within  the  shape 
less  and  scentless  husk,  and  flings  itself  once  more  to 
its  wonted  repose  in  the  embraces  of  the  fulfilling 
earth ! 

It  were,  perhaps,  too  much  to  allege,  that  for  our 
use  and  pleasure  alone  were  created  these  loveliest 
objects  of  the  natural  world,  so  curious  in  contriv 
ance,  so  matchless  in  surpassing  beauty,  so  eloquent 
in  the  lessons  of  unerring  wisdom.  Of  the  originally 
perfect,  but  now  interrupted,  relation  between  things 
beautiful  and  things  morally  good,  we  may  form  some 
not  irrational  conjecture.  That  they  are  sadly  dis 
joined,  under  our  present  condition,  we  well  know. 
But  if,  as  we  are  told, 

Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth, 
Unseen,  both  when  we  wake  and  when  we  sleep, — 

it  were  not  unreasonable  to  conclude,  that,  to  their 
celestial  apprehension,  the  lovely  aspects  of  creation 
may  afford  a  delight  correspondent  with  the  primal 
relations  between  all  things  in  themselves  excellent ; 
that  to  them,  as  to  the  Infinite  Author,  the  loveliness 
of  creation  may  seem  very  good.  Nor  are  we  capable 
of  understanding,  how  far  the  inferior  orders  of  being 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  189 

are  susceptible  of  enjoyment  from  the  same  sources 
with  ourselves.  That  their  organs  are  affected  to 
some  extent  by  the  same  sights,  as  well  as  sounds, 
which  address  themselves  to  our  own  sensations,  and 
that  they  do  appreciate  some  of  the  properties  of  the 
vegetable  world,  we  have  the  most  abundant  evidence. 
That  the  "  grazed  ox  "  would  trample,  in  the  fragrant 
meadow,  upon  the  springing  blossoms,  that  fill  the 
soul  of  the  merest  child  with  irrepressible  delight,  is 
no  less  true,  than  that  the  bee  lingers  upon  the  flow 
ery  bank,  in  pursuit  of  his  sweet  repast,  or  that  the 
wild  bird  trills  his  spontaneous  song  where  dews  are 
brightest,  amongst  leaves  and  flowers.  Yet  we  may 
be  sure,  that  to  us  alone,  of  the  common  dwellers 
upon  earth,  is  given  the  power  of  justly  appreciating 
these  munificent  gifts  of  the  benevolent  Author  of  all 
things.  To  us  alone  has  been  afforded  the  faculty  of 
deriving  the  most  innocent  enjoyment  from  their  cul 
tivation  and  care  ;  and,  since  the  first  habitation 
assigned  to  our  common  parents  was  indeed  a  Para 
dise,*  we  may  conclude,  that  in  the  indulgence  of  no 
other  of  our  pleasures  do  we  so  nearly  approach  their 
happy  and  sinless  state. 

There  can  be,  indeed,  scarcely  a  change  more  strik 
ing,  than  to  leave  the  noisy  streets  of  the  "  dim  and 
treeless  town "  for  the  pleasant  garden,  stretching 
away  under  the  broad  reviving  sunshine,  in  the  sweet 

*  TIAPA'JEIZOZ,  a  garden. 


190  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

and  open  air.  Of  all  the  ordinary  vicissitudes  of  life, 
I  am  aware  of  none  which  involves  a  revolution  so 
absolute.  We  quit  the  sights  which  offend  us  at  every 
turn,  and  enter  upon  a  scene  affluent  in  all  things, 
which  please  the  eye  and  refresh  the  imagination. 
Instead  of  the  tumult  and  intemperate  haste  of  the 
crowded  haunts  of  men,  we  rest  with  the  repose  of 
nature,  broken  only  by  murmurs  that  are  delicious, 
and  the  warbled  music  of  the  skies.  For  the  suffo 
cating  steam  of  crowded  life,  we  inhale  ineffable  per 
fumes,  that  float  upon  the  breath  of  flowers.  We 
forget  the  debasing  competitions  of  wealth  and  fame, 
and  enter  into  the  innocent  pursuits  of  the  guileless 
creatures  of  the  air.  Instead  of  the  too  often  profit 
less  companionships  of  society,  we  meet  ourselves.  We 
become  the  companions  of  our  own  inner  thoughts, 
and  the  things  which  intervene  between  our  hearts 
and  heaven  are  those,  which  only  link  us  more  closely 
to  the  infinite  aspirations  of  our  souls.  That  voice 
within  speaks  to  us  like  a  trumpet,  whose  whispers 
were  almost  inaudible  through  the  tumult  and  hurry 
of  life.  The  heart  which  was  harder  than  the  nether 
millstone,  in  the  cave  of  Plutus,  softens  and  expands 
to  the  just  amplitude  of  its  nature,  beneath  the  liberal 
sunshine  and  under  the  broad  and  bounteous  atmos 
phere.  And  still,  like  that  primal  Eden,  though 
shorn  and  diminished  of  those  heavenly  flowers, 

That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow, 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  191 

it  is  yet  the  faint  image  of  the  original  paradise,  and 
the  only  earthly  region  instinctive  with  the  spirit  of 
an  Almighty  and  universal  Love.  For  here,  indeed, 
it  is  that 

o'er  the  flower 


His  eye  is  sparkling  and  his  breath  hath  blown, 
His  soft  and  summer  breath,  whose  tender  power 
Passes  the  strength  of  storms  in  their  most  desolate  hour. 

A  populous  solitude  of  bees  and  birds 

And  fairy-form'd  and  many-colored  things, 

Who  worship  him  with  notes  more  sweet  than  words, 

And  innocently  open  their  glad  wings, 

Fearless  and  full  of  life ;  the  gush  of  springs, 

And  fall  of  lofty  fountains,  and  the  bend 

Of  stirring  branches,  and  the  bud  which  brings 

The  swiftest  thought  of  beauty,  here  extend, 

Mingling,  and  made  by  Love,  unto  one  mighty  end. 

It  is  from  places  like  these,  that  the  benefactors  ol 
the  world  have  derived  the  strength  of  their  generous 
impulses.  It  is  here  that  statesmen  and  poets  and 
philosophers  have  retired,  and  moulded  those  divine 
conceptions,  which  have  resulted  in  the  advancement 
and  elevation  of  mankind.  It  was  into  such  a  retreat, 
that  that  noblest  Roman,*  styled  by  onef  "  the  most 
wise,  most  worthy,  most  happy  and  the  greatest  of  all 
mankind,"  entered,  after  he  had  made  his  native  city 
the  mistress  of  the  world.  In  that  venerated  solitude, 
to  which  many  a  pilgrim  step  turned,  in  the  succeed- 

*  Scipio.  t  Cowley. 


192  DEDICATION   OP   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

ing  ages  of  his  country's  history,  wiser  than  he  who, 
in  later  times, 

Exchanged  an  empire  for  a  cell, — 

he  forgot  alike  his  glories  and  their  cares,  and  con 
ceived  that  illustrious  sentiment,  which  could  never 
have  arisen  in  an  ignoble  or  ambitious  mind,  Nutir 
quam  minus  solus  quhm  cum  solus.  From  the  rose- 
beds  of  Pjestum,  rich  in  the  bloom  of  their  double 
harvest,*  was  wafted  that  breath  of  flowers,  which 
ages  ago  stirred  and  mingled  with  the  sublimest  of 
human  emotions  in  "  Rome's  least  mortal  mind :" 
from  that  Pgestum,  whose  fragrant  odors  yet  faint 
upon  the  summer  gale,  amidst  the  ruins  of  man's  less 
durable  achievements  ;  that  Psestum,  where  still 

The  air  is  sweet  with  violets,  running  wild 

Mid  broken  pieces  and  fallen  capitals ; 

Sweet  as  when  Tully,  writing  down  his  thoughts, 

Those  thoughts  so  precious  and  so  lately  lost, 

(Turning  to  thee,  divine  philosophy, 

Ever  at  hand  to  calm  his  troubled  soul,) 

Sailed  slowly  by  two  thousand  years  ago, 

For  Athens ;  when  a  ship,  if  northeast  winds 

Blew  from  the  Psestan  gardens,  slacked  her  course. 

We  have  read,  with  ennobling  emotions,  in  our 
school-boy  days,  of  the  reluctance  with  which  the 
royal  gardener  of  Sidon  f  left  his  pleasing  toils,  for 

*  Biferique  rosaria  Psesti. — VIRG. 
t  Abdolonymus. 


DEDICATION   OP   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  193 

the  purpose  of  assuming  the  burdensome  cares  of 
state.  And  it  was  from  such  a  scene  that  Horace 
might  well  have  refused  to  part,  to  enjoy  the  more 
intimate  companionship  of  the  master  of  the  world ; 
especially  as  this  doubtful  privilege  must  have  been 
alloyed  with  the  society  of  that  proud  but  degenerate 
capital,  to  which  Jugurtha,  not  long  before,  had  said 
adieu  in  language  far  more  just  than  flattering: 
"  Farewell,  0  cruel  and  venal  city,  which  requirest  only 
a  purchaser,  in  order  to  sell  thyself  and  all  which  thou 
dost  contain."  And  it  was  in  the  shades  of  those  Sa- 
lonian  gardens,  which  his  own  hands  had  made,  that 
Diocletian,  the  emperor,  received  the  ambassadors, 
who  vainly  strove  to  reinvest  his  brows  with 

the  hollow  crown 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king. 

But  perhaps  one  of  the  finest  natural  illustrations 
of  the  interest,  which  still  clings  to  pursuits  like  these, 
long  after  the  heart  is  comparatively  dead  to  all  other 
human  cares,  is  to  be  found  in  the  pages  of  the  great 
novelist,  whose  pictures  appear  to  us  less  like  efforts 
of  imagination,  than  delineations  of  nature  herself  in 
her  invariable  aspects.  The  venerable  Abbot  of  St. 
Mary's,  according  to  the  tenor  of  the  tale,  formed 
apparently  for  times  less  troublous  than  those  which 
then  distracted  his  unhappy  country,  resigns  to  a 
bolder  spirit  his  conspicuous  post  in  the  van  of  the 
17 


194  DEDICATION   OP   HOETICULLTUEAL   HALL. 

armies  of  the  clmrcli,  now  become  literally  and  car 
nally  militant.  He  betakes  himself,  with  cheerful 
resignation,  to  the  horticultural  occupations  of  his 
earlier  and  happier  days.  But  his  present  pursuits, 
as  well  as  his  former  condition  and  character,  serve  to 
involve  him  in  the  plots  and  counterplots,  formed  for 
the  liberation  of  that  fairest  flower  of  Scotland's 
beauty,  whose  uttered  name  has  so  long  awakened, 
and  will  forever  awaken,  every  romantic  emotion  in 
the  human  bosom  ;  of  that  lovely  Mary,  less  a  queen 
than  a  woman,  whose  melancholy  story,  after  the 
lapse  of  nearly  three  centuries,  so  stirs  the  heart,  that 
all  seems  harsh  and  cruel,  which  sullen  history  would 
dare  to  blend  with  the  memory  of  her  beauty  and  her 
wrongs.  Yet  in  spite  of  her  loveliness  and  misfor 
tunes,  the  pious  and  transmuted  Abbot,  stricken,  it  is 
true,  somewhat  into  the  vale  of  years,  struggles  hard 
between  his  allegiance  to  his  queen,  consecrated,  as  it 
is,  by  his  duty  and  devotion  to  the  church,  and  his 
affection  for  his  garden-plots,  which  the  rude  feet  of 
messengers  and  soldiers  might  trample  ;  for  his  fruits 
and  his  flowers, — his  bergamots,  his  jessamines  and 
his  clove-gilliflowers.  Let  queens  escape  from  prison, 
or  kingdoms  pass  away,  so  the  season  return  in  its 
freshness  to  his  more  intimate  domain.  "  Ay,  ruin 
follows  us  everywhere,"  said  he  ;  "a  weary  life  I  have 
had  for  one  to  whom  peace  was  ever  the  dearest  bless 
ing.  *  *  I  could  be  sorry  for  that  poor  queen,  but 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTUKAL   HALL.  195 

what  avail  earthly  sorrows  to  a  man  of  fourscore  ? — 
and  it  is  a  rare  dropping  morning  for  the  early  cole- 
wort."* 

But  I  know  of  no  picture  more  agreeable  than  that 
of  old  age,  which  the  world,  if  it  lias  robbed  it  of 
all  things  else,  has  been  unable  to  cheat  of  its  relish 
for  these  innocent  pleasures.  There  is  nothing  to" 
rival  it,  unless  it  be  the  unalloyed  delight  of  children, 
in  the  midst  of  a  garden.  How  eagerly  they  scamper 
along  the  walks,  and  stoop  over  the  brightening  beds ! 
At  the  very  approach  of  spring,  their  hearts  are 
bounding  as  at  some  unheard-of  joy.  To  them,  the 
golden  hours  of  summer  are  laden  with  a  rapture 
unknown  to  later  years.  With  what  exquisite  enjoy 
ment  they  enter  upon  the  minutest  examination  of 
the  most  common  things  !  The  flowers  that  are  their 
own  make  them  rich  with  an  almost  untold  wealth. 
The  springing  grass  to  them  is  like  the  verdure  of  a 
fairy  creation,  and  every  folded  bud  comes  forth,  the 
miracle  that  it  is  in  their  soft  and  earnest  eyes. 

And  then,  what  a  host  of  illustrious  names  throng 
upon  our  memories,  and  seem  to  sanctify  these 
pleasant  and  quiet  scenes.  I  speak  not  now  so  much 
of  the  poets,  who  have  been  forever  the  chosen  inter 
preters  of  nature's  mysteries,  and  wanting  whom,  she 
might  forever  have  uttered  oracles,  sounding  to  the 
wise,  but  vague  and  indefinite  to  the  general  appre- 

*  The  Abbot,  Vol.  II. 


196  DEDICATION   OP   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

hension.  But  the  time  would  fail  me  to  tell  the  great 
and  illustrious  names  of  English  history,  blended  with 
every  memory  of  these  endearing  pursuits :  of  Wol- 
sey,  magnificent  in  all  his  enterprises ;  of  Sidney, 
conceiving  the  delicious  dreams  of  "Arcadia,"  in  his 
ancestral  bowers  at  Pcnshurst ;  of  "VVotton,  flattering 
the  Virgin  Queen  with  his  present  of  orange  trees 
from  Italy,  still  flourishing  in  their  original  perfec 
tion  ;  of  Temple,  whose  heart  so  clung  to  the  delight 
ful  recreations  of  his  leisure  hours,  that,  by  his  will, 
he  directed  that  heart  itself  to  be  buried  beneath  the 
sun-dial  in  his  garden  ;  of  Evelyn,  whose  very  name 
awakens  every  pleasing  association  connected  with 
rural  pursuits,  and  whose  noble  sentences  are  full  of 
the  heart  and  soul  of  one,  who  loved  the  soil  that  bore 
him,  with  every  emotion  becoming  a  patriot  and  a 
man ;  of  Raleigh,  the  graceful  and  gallant,  learned 
and  brave  ;  of  Bacon,  in  the  language  of  Cowley, 

Whom  a  Avise  king  and  Nature  chose 
Lord  Chancellor  of  both  their  laws  ; 

of  that  Bacon,  who  would  have  fresh  flowers  upon  his 
table,  while  he  sounded  the  depths  of  divine  and 
human  philosophy  ;  of  Addison,  the  regenerator  of  a 
more  manly  taste  in  gardening,  as  well  as  literature  ; 
of  Locke,  the  childlike  philosopher,  exchanging  his 
researches  amongst  the  labyrinths  of  the  human  mind 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL    HALL.  197 

for  studies  on  a  fairer  page,  the  open  book  of  Nature, 
in  her 

hues, 
Her  forms,  and  in  the  spirit  of  her  forms — 

and  who,  unlike  that  illustrious  Roman,  to  whom  1 
have  referred,  loved  the  society  of  children  rather 
than  perfect  solitude  ;  of  Cowley  and  Pope,  Walpole, 
Shenstone  and  Cowper,  and  a  hundred  others,  who 
have  illustrated  this  subject  by  their  genius,  and  who 
are  dear  to  us  by  every  kindred  tie  which  connects  us 
with  the  memorials  of  the  mind ;  of  Newton,  conceiv 
ing,  from  a  natural  phenomenon  in  his  garden,  of  the 
mighty  law  which  balances  this  solid  earth  amidst  the 
unshaken  spheres  ;  of  Fox,  turning  without  a  sigh 
from  that  great  assembly  which  he  had  so  often  con 
trolled  by  his  sagacious  eloquence,  and  finding,  amidst 
his  flowers  and  trees  at  St.  Anne's  Hill,  a  happiness 
far  more  real,  than  during  the  long  years,  when  lie 
had  been  the  very  idol  of  popular  applause,  or  for  the 
brief  but  dazzling  hour,  when,  having  finally  grasped 
the  prize  of  a  life-long  ambition,  he  directed  the  des 
tinies  of  millions  of  his  fellow  men  ;  or  of  Wash 
ington — our  own — the  greatest  name  of  all — forget 
ting,  amidst  rural  pursuits  and  pleasures,  every  care, 
but  that  never-ending  anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  his 
country  ;  while  the  gathering  plaudits  of  the  grateful 
people,  blessed  under  his  beneficent  rule,  swelled 
above  the  retreating  echoes  of  victory, — until  all  grew 
17* 


198  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

at  length  to  him  inaudible,  amidst  that  hallowed 
repose,  and  beneath  the  solemn  whispering  shadows  of 
Mount  Vernon. 

And  oh,  what  glory  and  delight  have  the  poets 
flung  around  these  delicious  resting-places  of  the 
soul ! — from  the  time  of  the  wise  and  royal  singer  of 
Israel,  who  tells  us,  "  I  made  me  gardens  and  orch 
ards,  and  I  planted  in  them  trees  of  all  kind  of 
fruits  ;"*  from  the  father  of  Grecian  minstrelsy,  revel 
ling  in  fancy  in  the  gardens  of  Alcinous,  and  the 
master  of  the  Roman  lyre,  learned  in  all  the  science 
of  the  generous  pursuit ;  from  the  sylvan  shades  of 
Arqua,  and  every  "  bosky  bourne"  which  Boccacio  so 
exquisitely  delineates,  down  to  the  grottoes  and  flower 
beds  of  Twickenham,  and  the  almost  sacred  solitudes 
of  Olncy.  With  what  a  charm  the  imagination  in 
sensibly  clothes  the  passage  of  those  golden  hours, 

When  Jonson  sat  in  Drummond's  classic  shade  ! 

What  tree  of  our  own  planting  is  more  familiar  to  us 
than  Pope's  willow,  or  Shakspeare's  mulberry,  set  by 
himself  in  his  garden  at  New  Place  ?  And  we  have 
all  of  us,  I  trust,  devoutly  execrated  the  barbarous 
hand,  which  so  recently  despoiled  this  tree  of  trees, 
which,  but  for  such  sacrilege,  might  have  been  visited 
by  our  children's  children.  And  when  we  read,  in 
one  of  the  early  biographies  of  Milton,  that  "  a  pretty 

*  Ecclcsiastes. 


DEDICATION   OP   HOETICULTURAL   HALL.  199 

garden-house  he  took  in  Aldersgate  street,  at  the  end 
of  an  entry,  and  therefore  the  fitter  for  his  turn,  by 
the  reason  of  the  privacy,  besides  that  there  were  few 
streets  in  London  more  free  from  noise  than  that  ;"* 
we  may  well  believe  that  there,  rather  than  in  the 
shock  of  life,  his  serene  imagination  might  lavish  all 
its  riches  amongst  the  flowery  groves  of  Paradise. 
Yes !  it  is  the  true  poets  who  are  with  us,  not  only 
when  the  sunshine  nestles  upon  the  mossy  bank  or 
beds  of  violets,  but  who  come  to  us  alike  when  Nature 
herself  is  sad  and  silent,  and,  even  at  the  wintry  fire 
side,  pour  the  joy  of  summer  into  our  longing  hearts. 
It  is  they  who  have  embroidered  the  virgin  page  with 
inwrought  words  of  every  curious  hue, — 

Of  sable  grave, 

Fresh  green,  and  pleasant  yellow,  red  most  brave, 
And  constant  blue,  rich  purple,  guiltless  white, 
The  lowly  russet,  and  the  scarlet  bright ; 
Branched  and  embroidered  like  the  painted  Spring  ; 
Each  leaf  matched  with  a  flower,  and  each  string 
Of  golden  wire  ;  * 

*  *  There  seem  to  sing  the  choice 

Birds  of  a  foreign  note  and  various  voice  ; 
Here  hangs  a  mossy  rock ;  there  plays  a  fair 
But  chiding  fountain  purled  ;  not  the  air 
Nor  clouds,  nor  thunder,  but  are  living  drawn  ; 
Not  out  of  common  tiffany  or  lawn, 
But  fine  materials  which  the  muses  know, 
And  only  know  the  countries  where  they  grow. 

*  Phillips. 


200  DEDICATION  OF  HORTICULTURAL  HALL. 

Without  these  glorious  hues  and  forms,  indeed,  I 
know  not  of  what  materials  the  literature  of  a  nation 
could  be  composed.  And  thus  it  is,  that  from  the 
earliest  age,  and  amongst  every  people,  their  beauty 
and  the  spirit  of  their  beauty  have  haunted  the  soul 
of  song.  We  know  that,  in  all  the  countries  of  the 
East,  flowers  have  forever  constituted  the  symbols  of 
sentiment  and  affection.  The  Greeks,  who  appear  to 
me  by  no  means  deficient  in  that  element  of  the 
romantic,  which  the  moderns  are  so  ready  to  arrogate 
entirely  to  themselves,  were  passionate  in  their  love 
of  flowers.  From  them  have  descended  to  us  the 
custom  of  their  employment  in  triumphal  pageants, 
and  on  occasions  of  joyful  or  mournful  ceremony  ; 
and  they  had  scarcely  a  familiar  flower,  of  the  garden 
or  the  field,  which  their  imagination  had  not  woven 
into  some  lovely  legend,  or  made  the  subject  of  some 
fanciful  metamorphosis.  By  that  most  poetical  of  all 
people,  the  Hebrews,  they  were  employed  as  the  vehi 
cles  of  many  a  touching  and  beautiful  similitude.  Of 
all  the  gorgeous  company,  there  are  none  so  familiar 
to  our  tongues  and  hearts,  as  the  two  which  they  have 
most  distinguished  with  their  affectionate  admiration. 
How  the  spirit  of  devotion  itself  appears  to  spring,  at 
the  very  mention  of  those  well-known  names  of  things 
so  beautiful  and  pure  ! 

By  cool  Siloam's  shady  rill 

How  sweet  the  Lily  blows  ; 
How  sweet  the  breath,  beneath  the  hill, 

Of  Sharon's  dewy  Hose  ! 


DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  201 

I  have  thus  endeavored,  gentlemen,  to  discourse  to 
you  in  a  manner,  I  would  fain  hope,  not  entirely  in 
consistent  with  the  spirit  of  the  occasion.  It  has 
been  my  purpose  to  avoid  that  turn  of  technical 
remark,  which,  before  such  an  audience,  might  have 
proved  presumptuous  in  me  rather  than  instructive 
to  you.  That  scientific  knowledge,  which  the  genius 
and  enterprise  of  modern  times  have  brought  to  the 
pursuit  of  your  liberal  objects,  may  be  found  in 
sources  easily  accessible.  Of  the  dignity  and  value 
of  these  objects  it  were  unnecessary  to  speak.  To 
apply  any  elaborate  eulogium  to  this  pursuit  were  as 
reasonable,  as  to  justify  the  great  sun  of  Heaven  him 
self,  in  the  fullness  and  glory  of  his  illustrious  beams. 
The  beautiful  and  costly  edifice,  which  you  have 
erected,  is  the  most  fitting  testimonial  of  your  liber 
ality,  as  its  purpose  affords  the  surest  evidence  of 
a  refined  and  intellectual  community.  "  God  Al 
mighty,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "  first  planted  a  garden ; 
and  indeed  it  is  the  purest  of  human  pleasures ;  it  is 
the  greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirits  of  man ;  with 
out  which  buildings  and  palaces  are  but  gross  handi 
works  ;  and  a  man  shall  ever  see,  that,  when  ages 
grow  to  civility  and  elegancy,  men  come  to  build 
stately,  sooner  than  to  garden  finely ;  as  if  gardening 
were  the  greater  perfection." 

There  can  be,  indeed,  no  question  whatever  that 
Horticulture,  as  a  scientific  pursuit,  is  of  very  recent 


202  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

date.  The  most  famous  gardens  of  antiquity,  we 
may  be  sure,  could  enter  into  no  sort  of  comparison 
with  those,  which  would  now  be  considered  as  ex 
hibiting  the  most  moderate  pretensions,  in  point  of 
the  variety  and  beauty  of  their  productions.  As  to 
what  those  were,  with  their  arbors,  which  Caesar  be 
queathed  to  the  Roman  people,  we  can  form  little 
adequate  idea.*  The  hanging  gardens  of  Semiramis 
have  been  accounted  amongst  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  Yet  nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that 
the  "  Beauty  of  the  Chaldee's  excellency  "  could  af 
ford  the  royal  mistress  of  Assyria  not  a  single  nose 
gay,  to  be  compared  with  the  meanest  of  those,  which 
constantly  grace  your  elegant  and  spirited  exhibitions. 
Were  it  not  for  the  apparent  necessity  of  the  case, 
arising  from  the  absence  of  intercommunication  be 
tween  different  people,  it  would  be  unaccountable 
how  little  progress  was  made,  for  long  ages,  in  an  art 
so  eminently  attractive  in  itself,  and  so  universally 
interesting  to  mankind.  It  is  true,  that  conquerors, 
at  all  periods  of  time,  have  traversed  vast  portions  of 
the  world.  But,  with  the  exception  of  the  emperor 
Napoleon,  the  pursuits  of  science,  or  the  advance 
ment  of  society,  have  rarely  entered  into  their  schemes 
of  personal  or  national  aggrandizement.  But  what 
vast  improvements  in  this,  as  in  other  respects,  have 
resulted  from  the  extending  commerce  of  the  world ! 

*  Csesaris  hortos. — HOT. 


DEDICATION   OP   HORTICULTURAL   HALL.  203 

Of  all  the  countless  profusion  of  fruits  and  vegetables, 
which  make  the  fertile  face  of  England  "  as  the  gar 
den  of  the  Lord,"  those  indigenous  to  her  soil  are  of 
the  most  insignificant  description.  Few  even  of  those 
sweetest  flowers,  which  her  later  poets  have  woven 
into  many  a  golden  song,  are  of  her  own  original 
production.  The  oak,  and  some  of  the  more  com 
mon  forest  trees,  were  all  that  her  Druid  groves 
could  boast.  The  very  mulberry  of  Shakspeare  was, 
in  his  day,  a  rare  exotic,  and  one  of  a  large  importa 
tion  procured  from  the  continent  by  King  James,  in 
1606.  And  if,  as  we  are  told,  in  the  times  of  Henry 
VII.,  apples  were  sold  at  one  and  two  shillings  each, 
the  red  ones  bringing  the  best  price,  we  may  con 
clude,  that  when  Justice  Shallow  treated  Falstaff  to  a 
last  year's  pippin  of  his  own  grajfing,  it  might  be  an 
entertainment,  at  least,  commensurate  with  the  dig 
nity  of  such  a  guest. 

It  has  been  recently  stated,  that  the  average  value 
of  the  plants,  in  a  single  horticultural  establishment 
of  London,  is  estimated  at  a  million  of  dollars.  And 
oh,  before  this  magnificent  result  had  been  reached, 
from  the  comparatively  trifling  beginning,  of  a  few 
centuries  ago,  what  infinite  care  and  cost  must  have 
been  expended  ;  what  love  for  the  generous  science 
must  have  been  fostered  and  encouraged  ;  what  dis 
tant  and  unknown  regions  had  been  visited  and  rifled 
of  the  glories  of  the  plains  and  woods  ! — from  soli- 


204  DEDICATION   OF   HORTICULTURAL   HALL. 

tary  Lybian  wastes  and  those  paradises  of  Persia,  the 
Land  of  Roses,  so  eloquently  described  by  Xenophon  ; 
from 

Isles  that  crown  th'  ./Egean  deep, 

to  the  boundless  expanse  of  this  bright  heritage  of 
ours  ;  from  Tartarian  deserts  to  prairies  of  perpetual 
bloom  ;  from  the  fertile  breadth  of  fields,  beneath  the 
southern  skies,  to  the  strange  continents  of  foreign 
seas  and  verdant  islands  of  the  ocean, 


whose  lonely  race 


Resign  the  setting  sun  to  Indian  worlds. 

Combined  with  this  adventurous  spirit  of  modern 
discovery,  is  another  principle,  which  has  proved 
eminently  favorable  to  the  interests  of  horticultural 
science.  The  higher  social  condition  of  those  softer 
companions  of  our  garden-walks  and  labors  and 
gentle  cares ;  the  more  liberal  position  awarded  them, 
under  the  influence  of  advancing  civilization  ;  our 
deeper  interest  in  their  moral  and  intellectual  cul 
ture,  and  our  more  generous  regard  for  their  inno 
cent  gratification,  have  entwined  a  thousand  graces 
and  refinements,  once  unknown,  amongst  the  coarser 
texture  of  social  life.  Never,  indeed,  do  they  enter 
so  intimately  into  our  joys,  and  griefs,  and  affections, 
as  in  gardens  and  amongst  flowers.  For  them,  and 
not  for  ourselves,  we  reclaim  the  scattered  blossoms 
along  the  wilderness  of  Nature  ;  we  ask  of  them  a 


DEDICATION   OP   HORTICULTUEAL   HALL.  205 

more  tasteful  care  in  the  cultivation  of  these  sweet 
and  beautiful  objects,  thus  won  from  the  desert  and  a 
thousand  times  rewarding  all  our  pains ;  and  for 
their  pleasure  and  adornment  we  mingle  those  soft 
est,  brightest  hues,  and  fold  the  interwoven  bud  and 
flower  and  leaf  into  innumerable  shapes  of  grace  and 
loveliness. 

Welcome,  then,  for  this,  if  for  no  other  cause,  the 
Hall  which  you  have  thus  prepared,  and  have  deco 
rated  and  garlanded  to-night  with  the  choicest  treas 
ures  of  the  Spring.  Long,  long  may  it  stand,  an 
evidence  of  no  vain  or  idolatrous  worship.  Unlike 
those  grosser  handiworks  of  cold  and  glittering 
marble,  which  crowned,  in  ancient  days,  the  barren 
cliff,  or  looked,  in  lifeless  beauty, 

Far  out  into  the  melancholy  main, — 

but  touched  with  the  spirit  of  every  gentle  and  noble 
association,  and  consecrated  by  the  soul  of  all  our 
dearest  affections,  welcome,  to  them  and  to  us,  be 
this  Temple  of  the  Fruits  and  Flowers. 

18 


EULOGY  ON  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR, 


OPENING  OF  THE  CFRCUIT  COURT  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES, 
IN  BOSTON,  JULY  15,  1850. 


MAT  IT  PLEASE  THE  COURT  : — 

I  RISE,  with  feelings  of  inexpressible  sorrow,  to  per 
form  the  severe  and  mournful  duty,  which  my  position 
imposes  upon  me.  I  announce  to  you,  officially,  that 
sad  event,  which  has  already  become  known  to  you 
through  so  many  channels,  the  sudden  and  lamented 
decease  of  Zachary  Taylor,  President  of  the  United 
States.  It  is  well  that  some  brief  interval  has  taken 
place,  between  the  occurrence  of  this  great  national 
calamity  and  the  session  of  the  Court.  Our  minds 
required  the  indulgence  of  some  lapse  of  time  to 
enable  us  to  recover,  in  a  measure,  from  the  first 
shock  of  an  affliction  so  profound  ;  and  that  we  might 
regain  some  power  of  language,  in  which  to  inter 
change  the  painful  emotions  of  our  hearts. 

It  is  little  more  than  one  brief  year  since  General 
Taylor  assumed  the  exalted  station,  which  He,  who 
holds  the  lives  of  all  men  and  the  destinies  of  nations 


208        EULOGY  ON  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR. 

in  his  hands,  has  called  upon  him  thus  unexpectedly 
to  relinquish.  To  that  station  he  was  welcomed  by 
the  unbounded  confidence  of  his  friends  and  the  sin 
cere  respect  of  his  opponents  ;  and  the  whole  people 
regarded  him  with  that  involuntary  admiration,  which 
his  signal  success  in  the  field  had  excited  in  the  hearts 
of  this  nation,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  civilized  and 
uncivilized  world.  For  there  is  no  remote  people, 
amongst  whom  the  flag  of  our  country  has  been  un 
furled,  which  has  not  heard  of  his  triumphs,  and 
learned  through  them  to  respect  the  American  name. 

His  wisdom,  his  moderation  and  his  sterling  worth 
had  allied  to  him  more  strongly,  every  day,  the  affec 
tionate  trust  of  his  fellow-citizens.  At  a  period  of 
great  doubt  and  perplexity  and  danger,  in  the  affairs 
of  this  country,  they  reposed  securely  upon  his  saga 
cious  counsels  and  the  undoubted  purity  and  integ 
rity  of  his  heart.  And  in  every  crisis  his  honored 
name  would  have  been  as  a  tower  of  strength,  around 
which  to  rally  the  great  energies  of  this  nation,  for 
the  maintenance  of  whatever  is  dear  to  us  in  the  insti 
tutions  and  inheritance  of  our  fathers. 

It  has  pleased  God  to  disappoint  these  expecta 
tions  ;  and  he  who  was  yesterday  our  hope,  is  mingled 
to-day  with  the  common  and  undistinguishable  dust. 
The  language  which  faltered  from  his  dying  lips  will 
form  the  noblest  and  most  appropriate  epitaph  for  his 
tomb:  "  I  am  not  afraid  to  die.  I  have  endeavored 


EULOGY  ON  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR.        20& 

to  perform  my  duty.  My  only  regret  is  in  leaving 
my  friends"  Like  whatever  else  he  has  uttered, 
upon  the  eve  of  great  occasions,  it  embodies,  in  brief 
and  forcible  expression,  those  striking  elements,  which 
constituted  the  admirable  basis  of  his  character ;  his 
deep  affection,  his  devotion  to  duty,  his  trust  in  God, 
and  that  high  courage,  which  had  so  often  sustained 
him  in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  and  now  indeed  has 
proved  unfailing  to  the  last. 

For  himself,  his  death  is  happy,  glorious  and  august  I 
He  was  at  the  summit  of  human  greatness.  He  had 
sought  no  such  elevation ;  and  all  men  felt  that,  in  his 
administration  of  his  great  office,  no  selfish  feelings  or 
purposes  could  intermingle.  He  was  blessed  by  the 
entire  devotion  of  domestic  attachment ;  and, 

Honor,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends 

accompanied  him,  with  unfaltering  adherence,  in  the 
exalted  course  of  his  daily  life.  He  has  now  escaped, 
by  death,  those  vicissitudes  which  attend  upon  the 
highest  earthly  estate.  Envy,  detraction,  and  the 
force  of  all  those  miserable  passions,  which  too  gen 
erally  influence  the  conduct  of  mankind — 

Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing 
Can  touch  him  further. 

He  has  left  to  his  country  a  name  and  an  example, 
worthy  the  glorious  days  of  the  noblest  republic  in 
the  most  heroic  age.  He  has  died  amidst  the  general 

18* 


210  EULOGY  ON  PRESIDENT   TAYLOR. 

and  heartfelt  grief  of  his  fellow-citizens.  And  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say,  that  no  public  man,  in  this  or 
any  other  nation,  has  ever  left  the  scene  of  his  mortal 
labors,  amidst  the  more  universal  sorrow  of  all  classes 
and  conditions  of  the  people.  Were  this  the  fitting 
time  and  place  for  the  expression  of  such  feelings,  I 
might  well  speak  more  at  length  of  the  almost  filial 
veneration,  with  which  many,  who  had  been  favored 
with  his  personal  intercourse,  regarded  him.  But 
the  language  of  private  grief  it  is  scarcely  becoming 
to  mingle  with  the  voice  of  public  and  general  lamen 
tation  ;  and  all,  who  can  appreciate  such  a  character, 
have  the  right  and  the  privilege  to  claim  their  share 
in  the  common  loss.  For  he  was  eminently  one,  who 
aspired  only  to  be  the  father  of  his  country ;  and 
earnestly  he  strove  to  emulate  the  virtues  and  pat 
riotism  of  him,  whose  name  has  long  since  been  con 
secrated  by  the  universal  homage  of  mankind. 

Assuredly  I  have  read  in  vain  the  history  of  the 
world,  and  have  failed  to  regard  with  justice  the 
character  and  conduct  of  my  cotemporaries,  if  I  err 
in  believing,  that  the  late  President  of  the  United 
States  possessed,  in  a  singular  degree,  the  true  ele 
ments  of  unquestionable  greatness  of  character.  We 
may,  indeed,  indulge  in  vague  notions  of  human  su 
periority  ;  and  while  the  mind  is  dazzled  by  this  ideal 
standard,  few  whom  we  have  known,  and,  it  will 
prove,  that  few  whom  the  world  has  ever  known,  will 


EULOGY   ON   PRESIDENT   TAYLOR.  211 

come  up  to  our  delusive  criterion.  But,  reduce  hu 
man  nature  in  general  to  the  sad,  yet  true  propor 
tions  of  its  qualities,  and  there  are  few,  indeed,  whose 
many  virtues  and  slight  counterbalancing  frailties 
will  leave  them  so  far  above  the  level,  as  he  whose 
loss  we  now  so  sincerely  deplore. 

For  the  mind  of  the  President  was  capable  of  the 
highest  conception  of  what  constitutes  the  common 
good,  and  his  heart  included  in  its  broad  embrace 
every  object  of  the  most  enlarged  benevolence.  His 
fervent  and  devoted  patriotism,  bounded  by  no  bar 
rier  of  education  or  prejudice,  was  ready  to  undergo 
the  extremest  sacrifice  for  the  public  welfare.  He 
exhibited  a  firm  reliance,  in  the  darkest  hour,  upon 
the  tried  resources  of  his  own  resolution  and  judg 
ment,  an  unshaken  constancy  of  purpose,  a  superiority 
to  evil  fortune,  and  serene  moderation  under  the 
more  dangerous  advances  of  the  best — a  true  and 
exact  integrity  within  every  public  and  private  rela 
tion — and  to  unblemished  purity  of  life  he  joined  the 
most  unassuming  simplicity  of  demeanor,  and  that 
dignified  humility,  which  is  a  jewel  of  untold  price 
upon  the  brow  of  the  ruler  of  the  people.  A  long  and 
prosperous  course  of  existence,  so  spent  in  the  service 
of  his  country  as  to  conduct  him,  eventually,  without 
solicitation,  and  against  his  well-known  desires,  to  be 
the  leader  and  chief  magistrate  of  more  than  twenty 
millions  of  freemen,  ended  in  an  administration  of 


212        EULOGY  ON  PKESIDENT  TAYLOR. 

affairs,  which,  meeting  and  conquering  many  scruples 
and  prejudices,  has  won  for  him  the  affection  and 
veneration  of  the  people,  until  now,  that  they  weep 
no  simulated  tears,  as  his  gray  and  honored  head  is 
laid  in  the  common  dust.  And  if  qualities,  and  pur 
poses,  and  successes,  such  as  these,  do  not  constitute 
the  highest  claims  to  human  greatness,  I  am  at  a  loss 
where  to  look  for  them  in  the  history  of  mankind. 

The  Roman  poet,  in  an  age  full  at  least  of  the  mem 
ory  of  heroic  qualities  and  characters,  has  set  forth 
his  model  of  a  great  ruler  as 

"  Justum  et  tcnacem  propositi  virum ;" 

and  claiming  this  noble  and  admirable  description, 
we  can  yet  embellish  its  very  justice  in  its  application, 
when  we  proclaim  that  General  Taylor  was  eminently 
a  true  man, — true  to  himself — true  to  all  mankind  ; 
that  he  never  did  intentional  wrong  to  any  human 
being ;  but  devoted  his  whole  life,  with  all  its  most 
honorable  purposes  and  energies,  to  the  welfare  of 
others  and  the  promotion  of  the  common  cause. 

That  great  biographer  of  the  wonderful  men  of  an 
tiquity,  whose  pages  he  loved  to  study  and  contem 
plate,  would  have  nobly  depicted  him ;  would  have 
dwelt  with  fondness  upon  his  excellent  qualities  and 
characteristics,  and  all  that  distinguished  him,  in  an 
age  by  no  means  prodigal  of  heroic  virtues  or  extra 
ordinary  qualities  of  mind  and  heart ;  and  would  have 


EULOGY  ON  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR.        213 

assigned  him  no  mean  position  amidst  that  illustrious 
company.  And,  under  the  influence  of  whatever 
motives  his  cotemporaries  may  be  induced  to  regard 
him,  it  needs  no  prophetic  vision  to  anticipate  the  fiat 
of  posterity. 

But  since  he  is  now  so  far  removed  from  the  effects 
of  human  censure  or  applause,  it  becomes  us  to  con 
sider  how  the  republic  may  best  derive  benefit  from 
his  lamented  death.  His  life  is  ours.  But  his  death 
may  avail  us  even  more  than  his  life,  if  we  receive  it 
as  an  admonition  of  the  providence  of  God.  If  we 
are  indeed  a  Christian  people,  we  will  not  believe 
that  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  universe,  without 
whom  "  not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground,"  has. 
taken  away  the  head  and  hope  of  the  nation,  at  its 
hour  of  extremest  need,  without  the  design  to  im 
press  some  forgotten  lesson  upon  our  hearts.  If  it 
tend  to  lead  us  to  more  entire  dependence  upon  Him  ; 
to  repress  the  narrow  and  unworthy  passions  which 
agitate  us  ;  to  soften  the  bitterness  of  party  strife  ;  to 
subdue  the  rancor  of  public  and  private  animosities ; 
to  induce  us  to  yield  our  partial  views  to  considera 
tions  of  the  general  welfare ;  to  control  and  conquer 
sectional  differences ;  to  enhance  in  our  eyes  the 
value  of  sacred  institutions,  and  to  bind  us  more 
closely  to  our  common  country  ;  could  such  be  the 
result,  neither  the  glorious  recollections  of  his  life, 
nor  the  sad  memorials  of  his  untimely  death  will 


214       EULOGY  ON  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR. 

have  proved  altogether  in  vain.  And  he,  could  he 
live  to-day,  would  count  his  valued  life  but  a  willing 
sacrifice,  to  secure  such  blessings  to  the  land  he  so 
loved  and  served. 

And,  with  this  imperfect  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
a  great  and  good  man,  I  respectfully  move  that  this 
Circuit  Court  of  the  United  States  do  now  adjourn. 


LIFE  AND  WORKS  OF  FISHER  AMES.* 

[From  the  Monthly  Law  Reporter.] 


THE  written  lives  of  great  men  are  truly  invalu 
able.  If  fairly  and  properly  presented,  there  is  no 
class  of  writing  so  useful,  and  it  certainly  loses  noth 
ing  in  this  respect,  by  being  usually  entertaining  as 
well  as  instructive.  And  we  suppose,  that  nothing 
tends  so  much  to  keep  up  society,  and  to  check  that 
downward  tendency,  to  which,  by  the  law  of  nature, 
all  human  things  are  subject,  as  the  example  and 
instruction  afforded  by  biographies  of  the  illustrious 
departed.  We  arc  the  more  disposed  to  offer  this 
consideration  to  the  attention  of  our  readers,  because 
in  our  day  a  great  deal  has  been  said  in  derogation  of 
what  some  have  denominated  "  hero-worship ; "  es 
pecially  by  those  who  are  willing  to  forget  that  the 
elements  of  great  character,  after  all,  must  be  great 
qualities ;  and  who  can,  necessarily,  offer  us,  as  a 
substitute,  only  qualities,  scarcely  to  be  accounted  so 

*  Works  of  Fisher  Ames.  With  a  Selection  from  his  Speeches  and 
Correspondence.  Edited  by  his  Son,  Seth  Ames.  Boston  :  Little, 
Brown  &  Company.  1854. 


216  LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES. 

well  worthy  of  our  respect  and  admiration.  We 
acknowledge,  for  our  own  part,  that  we  prefer  to 
worship  heroes,  if  need  be,  rather  than  those  who 
have  no  title  to  any  such  appellation. 

The  reasons  which  go  to  constitute  the  sound  basis, 
upon  which  our  views  in  regard  to  this  subject  are 
founded,  seem  to  us  almost  too  obvious  to  require 
much  effort  at  elucidation.  The  framework  of  human 
society,  as  we  have  already  suggested,  is  not  kept 
moving  in  regular  order,  and  subject  to  just  influ 
ences,  by  the  mere  operation  of  its  own  friction.  On 
the  contrary,  if  human  affairs  were  left  entirely  to 
the  management  of  those  who,  unhappily,  possess  no 
heroic  tendencies,  WTC  apprehend  that  their  ordinary 
pursuits  would  descend  very  low,  in  the  scale  of 
dignity  and  honor  and  whatever  else  tends  to  pro 
mote  the  improvement  and  elevation  of  the  race.  In 
a  word,  it  is  really  great  men,  and  not  petty  men, — 
men  of  noble  minds  and  generous  sympathies  and 
elevated  views  and  exalted  talents, — those  whose  im 
pulses  and  principles  and  aspirations  conduct  them 
honorably  along  the  high  and  difficult  paths  of  public 
service, — who  undoubtedly  deserve,  as  they  have  gen 
erally  enjoyed,  the  peculiar  respect  and  gratitude  of 
mankind. 

It  sometimes  happens,  however,  in  the  decay  of 
States,  under  popular  institutions,  that  men  of  no 
great  ability  or  honor  get  the  upper  hand.  In  the 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES.  217 

midst  of  public  factions  and  the  jealousies  and  rival 
ries  of  political  conflicts,  hordes  of  the  least  deserving 
often  become  ambitious.  The  presumption  of  such 
persons  is  usually  on  a  par  with  their  ignorance,  and 
they  are  unscrupulous,  just  in  proportion  as  they  are 
deficient  in  the  higher  sentiments,  which  control  the 
conduct  of  better  men.  They  are  thus  able,  by 
means  of  combination  and  the  impulse  of  common 
though  selfish  interest,  to  carry  their  objects  into 
effect,  and  to  exclude  from  the  conduct  of  affairs 
those  who  arc  most  able  to  understand  and  to  man 
age  them  the  best.  The  consequence  always  has 
been,  and  always  will  be,  that  a  flood  of  degeneracy 
will  sweep  over  the  surface  of  society ;  and,  unless 
checked  by  better  influences,  a  nation,  once  enlight 
ened,  cultivated,  generous  and  free,  may  become  in 
the  progress  of  time,  as  has  often  proved  to  be  the 
case,  degraded  into  barbarism,  or  its  people  supple 
slaves  to  the  worst  and  meanest  tyrants. 

In  a  word,  if  free  institutions  are  to  flourish  and 
be  at  all  permanent,  they  must  rest  upon  established 
principles  of  generally  understood  application,  rather 
than  stand  openly  exposed  to  the  fluctuations  of  pop 
ular  impulse  or  caprice ;  and  the  people  who  enjoy 
their  advantages  must  vigilantly  require,  that  the 
popular  will  shall  be  intelligently  directed  and  ex 
pressed,  and  the  laws  be  devised  and  administered  by 
19 


218  LIFE    AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER    AMES. 

the  ablest  and  best  citizens,  fitted  to  represent  worthily 
the  interests  of  the  whole. 

This,  we  observe,  is  an  imperfect  summary  of  Mr. 
Ames's  political  principles  and  opinions,  for  which 
some  people  saw  fit,  in  his  day,  to  stigmatize  him  as 
an  aristocrat.  In  this  view,  and  for  the  example  and 
warning  of  other  times,  we  conceive  that  his  son  has 
now  conferred  a  real  benefit  on  the  public,  by  pre 
paring  this  memorial  of  his  illustrious  father.  For 
FISHER  AMES  was,  unquestionably,  a  great  man ;  of 
the  true,  old-fashioned,  sterling,  devoted  stamp.  Not, 
certainly,  that  we  mean  to  be  understood  as  alleging, 
that  either  he,  or  his  cotemporarics,  were  quite  free 
from  errors  and  defects,  which,  in  his  case,  it  might 
be  difficult  to  point  out,  but  with  which  public  men, 
in  all  ages  and  countries,  have  been  more  or  less 
chargeable.  Of  one  thing  we  are  sorry  to  feel  a 
clear  confidence,  that  the  standard  of  public  obli 
gation  and  the  tone  of  public  honor  were  altogether 
higher  in  his  day  than  in  our  own  ;  that  the  scale  of 
generous  patriotism  had  not  generally  been  permitted 
a  descent  so  low,  and  at  the  same  time  so  safe,  as 
more  modern  times  have  witnessed ;  and  that  politi 
cal  corruption  as  yet  duly  paid  its  decent  and  respect 
ful  external  homage  to  public  integrity.  In  a  word, 
no  one  ever  doubted,  that  we  ever  heard  of,  that 
Fisher  Ames  was  an  honest  man  ;  true  to  his  prin 
ciples,  his  conscience,  his  country  and  his  Maker! 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES.  219 

Throughout  the  great  administration  of  Washington, 
during  a  period  which,  as  Mr.  Ames  himself  has 
admirably  characterized  it,  "  that  government  was 
administered  with  such  integrity,  without  mystery, 
and  in  so  prosperous  a  course,  that  it  seemed  wholly 
employed  in  acts  of  beneficence," — and  in  subsequent 
more  stormy  times,  side  by  side  with  men  of  power 
ful  character  and  exalted  ability,  whose  energies  had 
been  developed  and  concentrated,  and  vivified,  amidst 
the  stirring  events  of  the  revolution, — Mr.  Ames  was 
always  seen  in  the  front  rank,  and  there  he  was  seen, 
to  the  last,  without  a  stain.  We  once  heard  one  of 
his  cotemporaries,*  who  knew  him  well,  say,  "  Every 
body  loved  him."  What  a  character  is  this  !  Better 
than  fame,  and  more  to  be  desired  than  the  proudest 
rewards  of  all  human  ambition.  To  have  passed 
through  the  troubled  scenes  of  an  eventful  life,  and 
the  fierce,  rancorous,  unsparing  conflicts  of  political 
warfare,  with  the  general  good-will,  affords  surely  the 
highest  testimonial,  not  merely  of  the  excellent  kind 
ness  of  his  heart,  but  of  the  sincere,  unflinching  and 
unsuspected  uprightness  of  his  character  and  life. 

This  is  clearly  no  place,  in  which  to  indulge  in 
speculations  upon  the  principles  of  the  great  party, 
.which  he  so  long  aided  to  conduct,  with  an  ability, 
kindred,  at  least,  to  the  highest  genius,  and  a  sagacity 
often  prophetic,  from  the  directness  and  singleness  of 

*  The  late  Hon.  I.  P.  Davis. 


220  LIFE    AND    WORKS    OF   FISHER   AMES. 

purpose  with  which  ho  regarded  public  affairs.  But 
the  nature  of  these  doctrines,  in  their  general  scope, 
and  often  in  their  minute  details,  and  the  earnest 
sincerity,  which  signalized  his  devotion  to  their  eluci 
dation  and  support,  are  sufficiently  developed  in  the 
pages  of  these  volumes. 

We  have  styled  Mr.  Ames  illustrious,  and  his  titles 
to  be  thus  distinguished  we  believe  will  be  more  fully 
acknowledged,  the  more  closely  they  are  investigated. 
They  are,  it  is  certain,  of  that  solid  character,  which 
will  bear  the  substantial  test  of  time.  The  too  nar 
row  space,  which  our  own  pages  allow  us  to  afford  to 
the  notice  of  these  handsome  volumes,  is  due  to  the 
character  of  Mr.  Ames,  as  an  ornament  to  the  profes 
sion  of  the  Law ;  though  the  exigencies  of  the  times, 
as  well  as  his  own  inclinations,  unquestionably,  en 
larged  him  into  a  statesman,  instead  of  permitting 
the  devotion  of  his  life  to  the  drudgery,  or  even  to 
the  higher  pursuits  of  the  Bar. 

The  volumes  are  introduced  by  that  elegant  and 
feeling  sketch  of  Mr.  Ames's  life,  prepared  by  the 
late  President  Kirkland,  which  has  long  been  held  one 
of  the  noblest  tributes  ever  paid  by  one  good  man  to 
the  memory  of  another.  This  is  followed  by  the 
"  Letters,"  invaluable,  of  course,  as  sources  of  illus 
tration  of  the  public  and  private  history  of  the  times  ; 
and  the  second  volume  is  made  up  of  the  political 
speeches  and  political  essays  of  Mr.  Ames.  It  is  not 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES.  221 

•v 

our  province  to  pronounce  upon  writings  and  oratori 
cal  efforts,  which  have,  long  since,  taken  their  place 
in  the  public  estimation.  The  Letters,  now  collected 
and  published  for  the  first  time,  constitute  a  new  ele 
ment  of  interest,  and  entitle  the  editor  to  our  grati 
tude,  for  this  highly  valuable  portion  of  his  filial 
work.  Our  own  publication  is  so-  exclusively  devoted 
to  the  exposition  of  legal  principles  and  the  annals  of 
judicial  tribunals,  that  we  arc  unable  to  devote  any 
space  to  the  consideration  of  the  life  and  public  char 
acter  of  Mr.  Aines.  This  is  the  less  necessary,  how 
ever,  by  reason  of  the  existence  of  that  succinct  and 
delightful  personal  sketch,  by  Dr.  Kirkland,  already 
alluded  to. 

The  letters  of  Mr.  Ames,  however,  we  wish  to 
remark,  are  of  very  great  value.  They  run  through 
the  long  period  from  1789  to  1807  ;  including,  there 
fore,  a  series  of  years  filled  with  events  of  the  highest 
consequence,  both  to  this  country  and  to  Europe,  and 
covering  that  tract  of  time,  in  which  the  principles  of 
our  own  government  were  most  thoroughly  examined, 
settled  and  established.  They  are  written  mostly  off 
hand,  in  an  easy,  agreeable  style,  without  any  apparent 
deliberate  attempt  at  artificial  construction.  Indeed, 
they  are  all  addressed  to  his  familiar  friends,  who  were 
all  men  of  mark  in  their  day  and  generation.  It  con 
stitutes  their  charm  very  much,  therefore,  as  well  as 
19* 


222  LIFE   AND    WORKS   OF   FISHER    AMES. 

* 

their  value,  that  personal  allusions,  often  to  those  of 
whose  private  life  we  cannot  hear  too  much,  and  that 
suggestions  in  regard  to  domestic  matters,  of  which 
more  than  we  could  wish  appear  to  have  been  omitted, 
— are  interspersed  with  discussions  of  public  affairs, 
discriminating  touches  upon  the  motives  and  charac 
ters  of  public  men,  comments  upon  the  temper  and 
spirit  of  the  people,  forebodings,  sometimes  too  soon 
realized,  and  ardent  hopes  and  aspirations  for  the  wel 
fare  of  his  country,  generally  far  more  than  fulfilled. 
They  present  Mr.  Ames  in  an  aspect  so  attractive, 
through  all  the  relations  of  life,  as  fairly  to  challenge 
credence  to  the  remark  of  our  venerable  and  now  la 
mented  friend,  that  "  every  body  loved  him."  The 
body  of  one  of  these  letters  we  quote  below.  It  is,  it 
will  be  seen,  upon  subjects  kindred  to  our  own  pages. 
It  throws  some  light  upon  the  character  of  Mr.  Ames, 
as  a  lawyer,  and  presents,  in  a  striking  view,  his 
strong  and  sagacious  sense, — indeed,  it  is  actually 
prophetic  in  its  judgments  upon  his  cotcmporaries, — 
and,  in  all  respects,  may  be  of  service  to  members  of 
the  profession,  in  our  own  day.  It  is  dated  at  Ded- 
ham,  Mr.  Ames's  residence,  October  5,  1802,  and  is 
addressed  to  Christopher  Gore,  afterwards  Governor 
of  Massachusetts,  as  we  suppose  on  the  eve  of  his 
return,  from  his  embassy  at  London,  to  his  native  city, 
Boston.  "We  would  suggest,  that  a  few  more  notes  to 
these  letters  might  be  of  use,  and  would  save  the 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES.  223 

trouble  to  their  readers  of  tiresome  research  into  co- 
temporary  documents. 

"  You  ask  my  advice  about  resuming  the  law  business.  I  cheerfully 
undertake  the  office,  only  premising  that  in  deciding  the  most  momen 
tous  concerns  of  life,  a  man  is  not  only  his  best,  but  almost  solely,  his 
own  adviser.  He  has  exclusively  that  instinctive  perception  of  what  he 
prefers,  and  of  what  he  can  do,  that  the  most  discerning  friend  must 
only  suppose,  and  may,  and  indeed  must,  in  a  great  measure  mistake. 
Nevertheless,  friends  ought  to  advise,  because  they  bring  this  power  of 
se/^judging  into  operation  precisely,  and  with  ample  materials.  All  I 
will  pretend  to  do  is  to  frame  a  special  verdict,  and  then  humbly  submit 
it  to  your  honor's  judgment. 

"  Great  law  knowledge  is  sure  to  gain  business  and  emolument. 
The  splendid  eloquence  that  displays  its  treasures  may  hasten  the 
popular  judgment  to  decide  that  a  man  possesses  them,  but  ultimately 
the  learning  of  the  lawyer  decides  the  measure  of  his  fame.  Now,  I 
pronounce  that  you  are  well  fitted  by  nature  and  study,  as  well  as 
practice,  for  such  eminence,  and  by  a  practice  that  evinces  your  exten 
sive  learning  and  sound  judgment  as  a  lawyer,  I  cannot  conceive  that 
you  will  submit  to  an  unfavorable  test  of  character,  or  that  you  will 
be  degraded  from  the  place  your  friends  wish  to  see  you  take. 

"  I  will  therefore  assume  it  as  a  point  proved,  that  by  practice  in 
great  causes,  and  where  law  learning  will  be  chiefly  sought  for,  you 
will  not  impair  the  dignity  of  your  standing  by  resorting  to  the  bar. 
But  you  will  reply,  that  by  returning  to  open  shop  you  cannot  choose 
your  customers,  nor  refuse  to  sell  ordinary  wares  ;  to  harangue  a  jury 
about  the  flogging  given  to  a  sailor,  or  to  mingle  in  the  snipsnap  war 
about  admitting  a  witness  or  a  deposition,  will  often  vex  and  humble 
the  liberal  mind ;  business  of  small  value  will  not  lie  in  your  way.  I 
reply,  your  share  will  be  made  up  by  insurance  cases',  and  questions 
which  our  bankrupt  law  is  sowing  for  the  harvest  of  1804.  I  observe 
that  the  little  contests  and  litigations  are  engrossed  by  the  junior  class 
of  the  profession  and  by  those  who  never  advance  beyond  mediocrity. 
This  is,  I  think,  a  different  position  of  things  from  what  existed  in 


224  LIFE   AND   WORKS   OP   FISHER   AMES. 

1786.  You  will  not  calculate  on  the  small  fees,  nor  the  vexations  liti 
gation  which  concern  sixpenny  interests  and  sixpenny  passions.  Mr. 
Parsons  practises  on  this  large  scale  that  I  recommend ;  and  I  will  add, 
fees  are  infinitely  better  than  they  were  in  1786. 

"  Who  are  the  rivals  for  this  business  with  whom  you  must  divide 
the  booty  ?  Parsons  stands  first,  but  he  is  growing  older,  less  indus 
trious,  and  wealth,  or  the  hypo,  may  stop  his  practice.  Otis  is  eager 
in  the  chase  of  fame  and  wealth,  and,  with  a  great  deal  of  eloquence, 
is  really  a  good  lawyer,  and  improving.  He,  however,  sighs  for  polit 
ical  office — he  knows  not  what ;  and  he  will  file  off  the  moment  an 
opportunity  offers. 

"  Dexter  is  very  able,  and  will  be  an  Ajax  at  the  bar  as  long  as  he 
stays.  You  know,  however,  that  his  aversion  to  reading  and  to 
practice  are  avowed,  and  I  believe  sincere.  His  head  aches  on  reading 
a  few  hours,  and  if  he  did  not  love  money  very  well,  he  would  not 
pursue  the  law.  Sullivan,  who  seems  immortal,  is  admonished  of  his 
decay  by  a  fit  every  three  months,  and  will  not  be  in  your  way. 

"  I,  your  humble  servant,  never  was  qualified  by  nature  or  inclina 
tion  for  the  bar,  and  this  I  always  well  knew.  Want  of  health,  and 
the  possession  of  a  small  competence  will  stop  my  mouth,  if  fate 
should  not  stop  my  breath  before  your  return.  I  have  reckoned  all 
the  persons  who  pretend  to  be  considerable.  John  Lowell's  health  is 
wretched.  ...  A  number  of  eminent  lawyers  will  be  wanted  in 
Boston,  and  though  the  place  is  overstocked,  I  think  the  prospect  for 
1804  not  unhopeful.  I  know  of  no  very  dashing  young  men  coming 
forward. 

"  Yet  truth  requires  that  I  should,  after  all,  state  my  expectation, 
that  your  share  of  the  business  will  not  be  as  great  as  it  would  have 
been  if  you  had  not  left  the  country.  It  takes  time  to  form  connec 
tions  and  to  resume  the  old  set  of  clients.  You  are  no  chicken,  and 
ought  not  to  calculate  on  a  very  long  period  of  drudgery  at  the  bar. 
You  will,  and  you  ought  to,  enjoy  the  otium  cum  amicis  ct  libris  ct  digni- 
tate,  for  many  years  before  you  die.  I  will  not  conceal!  from  you  my 
opinion,  that  you  ought  not  to  expect,  or  to  take  into  your  plan,  the 
receipt  of  a  great  many  great  bags  of  money  from  your  practice.  I 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER  AMES.  225 

do  not  found  this  moderate  calculation  on  your  want  of  merit  and 
talent,  or  on  the  refusal  of  the  public  to  admit  your  title  to  both ;  I 
only  insist  that,  from  circumstances  connected  with  you,  with  rivals  in 
practice,  and  with  the  state  of  business,  you  are  not  to  look  for  a  very 
large  income. 

"  Suppose,  however,  instead  of  six,  eight  or  ten  thousand  dollars  a 
year,  which  Hamilton  and  some  others  are  said  to  derive  from  prac 
tice,  you  get  only  fifteen  hundred  or  two  thousand  dollars,  ought  you 
to  decline  practice  on  that  account,  or  to  feel  mortified,  as  if  the  public 
had  rejected  and  degraded  you  ?  I  am  interested  to  insist  that  this 
estimate  of  reputation  is  not  fair,  for  I  am  not  entitled  to  boast  of  a 
lucrative  practice.  The  truth  is,  other  considerations  deserve  weight, 
and  the  public  will  give  it  to  them. 

"  To  be  engaged  on  great  law  points,  and  to  acquit  yourself  as  you 
will,  surely  cannot  fail  to  vindicate  you  with  every  body.  Your  time 
of  life,  your  reputation,  property,  and  moderation  as  to  the  passion  for 
gain,  will  be  assigned  as  reasons,  even  before  you  can  assign  them 
yourself,  for  your  declining  the  toil  of  promiscuous  business.  It  will 
be  said,  you  would  not  be  idle,  nor  will  you  be  a  drudge.  This  line  of 
practice,  the  only  one  in  your  choice,  will  shelter  you  from  the  ungen- 
tlemanly  wrangles  of  the  bar,  and  the  courts  have  of  late  years  set 
about  learning  some  manners. 

"  Then  the  question  is  fairly  before  you,  whether  you  will  open  your 
shop  on  such  terms,  and  with  such  prospects  as  I  have  stated.  Why 
not  ?  I  ask.  You  will,  or  some  friends  rather  of  yours  will  reply, 
why  should  Mr.  Gore  descend  to  this  not  very  respectable,  not  very 
comfortable,  not  very  lucrative  fagging  at  the  bar  ?  I  urge  that  it  is 
better  to  keep  up  your  style  of  living  by  some  business,  than  to  change 
it  for  an  idle  life,  and  a  style  observably  lower  than  that  you  have  been 
accustomed  to.  A  man  may  make  some  retrenchments  and  savings, 
but  he  cannot  greatly  alter  his  expense  without  descending,  which  I 
should  be  sorry  you  should  have  forced  upon  you.  A  man  may  not 
incline  to  take  a  certain  degree  on  the  scale  of  genteel  living,  but  hav 
ing  once  taken  it  he  must  maintain  it.  Still  I  think  that  law  in  Bos 
ton  will  keep  you  out  of  the  way  of  spending  fifteen  hundred  or  two 


226  LIFE   AND   WORKS   OP   FISHER   AMES. 

thousand  dollars,  that  a  retirement  of  idle  luxury  would  impose  upon 
you  at  Waltliam.  Every  southern  visitor  must  see  your  improve 
ments,  show  them  to  his  wife,  and  eat  and  drink  you  ten  guineas' 
worth.  $2000  saved,  and  $2000  got,  is  $4000,  enough  to  meet  all  the 
demands  on  your  treasury,  over  and  above  the  resources  drawn  from 
your  property.  Perhaps  the  superior  cheapness  of  living  in  Boston 
may  not  strike  you.  I  reply,  a  busy  man  may  make  savings  and  re 
putably,  if  he  will ;  and  indeed  he  must  renounce  business,  or  be 
moderate  in  his  pleasures.  He  must  often  draw  a  special  plea  and 
refuse  a  feast.  This  is  not  all.  Make  the  comparison  between  busi 
ness  and  no  business.  Farming  at  Waltham  will  be  some  resource, 
but  I  have  no  idea  that  it  will  afford  that  steady  occupation  which  is 
essential  to  keep  life  from  being  a  heavy  burden.  Books,  you  will  say, 
afford  that  resource.  In  some  degree  they  do,  but  they  need  auxiliary 
resources.  In  case  you  should  be  at  Waltham,  unemployed  by  the 
public,  you  will  be  in  some  danger  of  being  forgotten  by  the  great 
multitude — out  of  sight  out  of  mind,  is  their  maxim.  By  practice  you 
will  be  in  sight,  and  ready,  in  every  one's  mind,  for  such  public  em 
ployment  as  your  friends  will  say  ought  to  seek  you.  Therefore  the 
bar  is  in  my  judgment  the  best  place  for  you  to  occupy,  whether  you 
aim  at  economy  in  expense,  tranquil  eiijoyment  of  friends,  or  the 
resumption  of  any  public  station.  Your  social  affections  will  find 
objects  and  exercise  ;  you  will  be  kept  busy,  and  of  course  cheerful ; 
you  will  not  appear  to  be  laid  by  or  thrown  away,  but  to  have  chosen 
your  old  post.  Even  if  you  should  do  little  business,  the  extent  of 
your  sacrifice  will  be  the  more  apparent.  You  will  return,  not  with  a 
raging  thirst  of  gain,  but  with  a  resolution  to  study  your  cases  and  to 
merit  confidence  and  reputation. 

"  Hence  I  conclude  you  ought  to  'open  shop'  again.  On  convers 
ing  with  Mr.  Cabot,  I  confess  he  instantly  decided  the  point  against 
me ;  on  further  discussion  he  came  over  to  my  opinion.  Indeed,  it 
seems  to  me  not  merely  the  best  course,  but  the  only  one  left  to  you. 
All  which  is  humbly  submitted. 

FISHER  AMES,  Foreman." — p.  299. 


LIFE    AND    WORKS    OF    FISHER    AMES.  227 

This  letter,  thus  playfully  framed  and  subscribed, 
affords  us  a  fair  specimen  of  Mr.  Ames's  epistolary 
style.  It  exhibits  also,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  that 
extraordinary  good  sense,  which,  applied  to  affairs  of 
more  general  interest,  is  denominated  wisdom ;  im 
plying  a  grasp  of  mind  and  soundness  of  judgment 
and  a  faculty  of  sagacious  discrimination,  which  are 
the  rarest  of  human  gifts.  With  this  no  one  can 
doubt  Mr.  Ames  was  eminently  endowed.  He  has 
been  sometimes  styled  "  the  Burke  of  America." 
Such  comparisons  often  fail  in  some  essential  particu 
lars  ;  and  in  the  present  instance,  we  suppose  would 
be  understood  as  intimating  some  inferiority  to  his 
great  prototype,  on  the  part  of  the  American  states 
man.  In  our  opinion,  not  rashly  formed,  Mr.  Ames, 
with  a  cast  of  mind  and  genius  and  a  nervous  organi 
zation,  in  some  respects  essentially  similar  to  the 
characteristics  of  Mr.  Burke,  may  well  be  held  fully 
the  equal  of  that  great  man,  except  on  the  score  of 
general  learning ;  for  the  acquisition  and  cultivation 
of  which,  this  country  afforded  fewer  opportunities 
and  inducements  than,  at  that  time  at  least,  existed 
abroad.  He  was,  nevertheless,  an  elegant  scholar,  as 
we  gather  from  the  memoir,  already  adverted  to ;  a 
fact,  indeed,  sufficiently  apparent  not  merely  from  the 
classical  allusions  to  be  found  in  his  speeches,  letters 
and  political  essays ;  but  from  that  ardor  and  glow 
and  elevation  of  thought,  which  show  clearly  that  his 


228  LIFE   AND   WORKS   OP   FISHER   AMES. 

mind  had  been  at  those  great  sources  of  inspiration, 
whose  draughts  invigorate  and  ennoble  minds  of  any 
kindred  warmth.  The  grand  essays  of  Mr.  Burke, 
rich  in  all  the  resources  of  his  luxuriant  and  subtle 
imagination,  were  in  reality  addressed  to  the  higher 
mind  of  society ;  that  is,  to  that  audience  of  culti 
vated  and  educated  people,  whose  minds  were  capable 
of  becoming  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  his  powerful 
and  generous,  but  frequently  abstract  speculations  ; 
and  whose  influence  upon  the  administration  of  pub 
lic  affairs  might  be,  therefore,  rather  reflective  than 
direct.  The  briefer  pieces  of  Mr.  Ames,  employing, 
generally  and  from  necessity,  no  higher  vehicle  of 
communication  with  the  public,  than  the  newspapers 
of  the  day,  were  far  more  practical  concessions  to 
such  claims,  as  the  people  themselves  might  be  thought 
to  have  upon  his  instruction  and  advice.  Yet  they  are 
dignified  and  enhanced  by  the  weight  of  his  learning, 
and  glow  with  the  illuminating  fire  of  his  genius.  We 
should  be  disposed  to  indicate,  as  one  chief  point  of 
difference,  that  Mr.  Burke  thought,  while  Mr.  Ames 
both  thought  and  felt.  We  do  not  mean  to  be  under 
stood,  that  in  our  opinion  the  great  British  statesman, 
for  whom  we  claim  to  entertain  an  unsurpassed  admi 
ration,  was  really  deficient  in  true  manly  feeling ;  but 
that  the  emotions  caught  from  the  imagination,  in  the 
closet,  must  be  necessarily  somewhat  colder  than  the 
spontaneous  and  natural  bursts  of  the  heart. 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES.  229 

111  one  important  particular,  our  own  countryman 
must  bear  away  the  palm.     No  man  surpassed  him  in 
his  faculty  of  engrossing  the  profound  attention  and 
regard  of  his  audience,  and  few  speeches  have  so  thor 
oughly  won  the  great  object  of  speeches  by  results, 
so  immediately  triumphant  and  overwhelming,  as  his 
own.    Indeed,  the  clear  logical  deductions,  the  soul  of 
imagination,  the  depth  of  earnest  feeling,  the  states 
manlike   knowledge,  the  philosophical  analysis,  the 
force  of  reasoning,  the  power,  aptness  and  elegance 
of  expression, — all  combined  in  his  great  speech  on 
the  British  Treaty,  delivered  in  the  House  of  Repre 
sentatives  of  the  United  States,  April  28,  1796, — are 
so  animated  by  the  vigor,  and,  so  to  speak,  elastic 
spring  of  the  style,  that  we  who  read  can  have  no 
hesitation  as  to  its  influence  on  those  who  heard  it. 
It  was  of  this  speech  that  John  Quincy  Adams, — cer 
tainly    no    incompetent  judge, — who    had    listened, 
under  very  favorable  circumstances,  to  all  the  distin 
guished  orators  of  the  British  Parliament,  at  its  most 
brilliant  period, — to  Burke,  and  Pitt,  and  Sheridan, 
and  Fox, — and  who  had  heard  and  observed  all  that 
our  own  Congress  could  produce,  when  the  great  men 
of  those  times  led  on  the  contending  parties, — pro 
nounced,  "  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it — of  all  that 
he  had  ever  heard — Mr.  Ames's  speech  on  the  British 
Treaty  was  surely  the  most  eloquent." 

The  closing  paragraphs  of  this  noble  appeal  to  the 
20 


230  LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES. 

honor,  as  well  as  the  judgment  and  reason  of  the 
nation,  which  afford,  however,  a  very  inadequate  idea 
of  its  general  character,  are  exceedingly  touching  and 
beautiful.  If  it  be  literally  true,  as  we  have  no  ques 
tion  it  was  substantially  so,  that  this  speech  was  deliv 
ered  without  any  of  that  mature  antecedent  reflection, 
and  direct,  careful  preparation,  with  which  most  of  the 
grandest  efforts  of  the  human  mind  have  been  wrought 
out,  we  should  scarcely  know  where  to  look  for  its 
parallel. 

"  Let  me  cheer  the  mind,  weary  no  doubt,  and  ready  to  despond  on 
this  prospect,  by  presenting  another,  which  it  is  yet  in  our  power  to 
realize.  Is  it  possible  for  a  real  American  to  look  at  the  prosperity  of 
this  country,  without  some  desire  for  its  continuance,  without  some 
respect 'for  the  measures  which,  many  will  say  produced,  and  all  will 
confess  have  preserved,  it  ?  Will  he  not  feel  some  dread,  that  a  change 
of  system  will  reverse  the  scene  ?  The  well-grounded  fears  of  our 
citizens,  in  1794,  were  removed  by  the  treaty,  but  are  not  forgotten. 
Then  they  deemed  war  nearly  inevitable,  and  would  not  this  adjust 
ment  have  been  considered  at  that  day  as  a  happy  escape  from  the 
calamity  ?  The  great  interest  and  the  general  desire  of  our  people 
was  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  neutrality.  This  instrument,  however 
misrepresented,  affords  America  that  inestimable  security.  The  causes 
of  our  disputes  are  either  cut  up  by  the  roots,  or  referred  to  a  new 
negotiation,  after  the  end  of  the  European  war.  This  was  gaining 
everything,  because  it  confirmed  our  neutrality,  by  which  our  citizens 
are  gaining  everything.  This  alone  would  justify  the  engagements  of 
the  government.  For,  when  the  fiery  vapors  of  the  war  lowered  in  the 
skirts  of  our  horizon,  all  our  wishes  were  centered  in  this  one,  that  we 
might  escape  the  desolation  of  the  storm.  This  treaty,  like  a  rainbow 
on  the  edge  of  the  cloud,  marked  to  our  eyes  the  space  where  it  was 
raging,  and  afforded  at  the  same  time  the  sure  prognostic  of  fair 


LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES.  231 

weather.     If  we  reject  it,  the  vivid  colors  will  grow  pale  ;  it  will  be  a 
baleful  meteor  portending  tempest  and  war. 

"  Let  us  not  hesitate,  then,  to  agree  to  the  appropriation  to  carry  it 
into  faithful  execution.  Thus  we  shall  save  the  faith  of  our  nation, 
secure  its  peace,  and  diffuse  the  spirit  of  confidence  and  enterprise  that 
will  augment  its  prosperity.  The  progress  of  wealth  and  improvement 
is  wonderful,  and  some  will  think,  too  rapid.  The  field  for  exertion  is 
fruitful  and  vast,  and  if  peace  and  good  government  should  be  pre 
served,  the  acquisitions  of  our  citizens  are  not  so  pleasing  as  the  proofs 
of  their  industry,  as  the  instruments  of  their  future  success.  The 
rewards  of  exertion  go  to  augment  its  power.  Profit  is  every  hour, 
becoming  capital.  The  vast  crop  of  our  neutrality  is  all  seed-wheat,, 
and  is  sown  again,  to  swell,  almost  beyond  calculation,  the  future  har 
vest  of  prosperity.  In  this  progress  what  seems  to  be  fiction  is  found 
to  fall  short  of  experience. 

"  I  rose  to  speak  under  impressions  that  I  would  have  resisted  if  I 
could.  Those  who  see  me  will  believe,  that  the  reduced  state  of  my 
health  has  unfitted  me,  almost  equally,  for  much  exertion  of  body  or 
mind.  Unprepared  for  debate  by  careful  reflection  in  my  retirement, 
or  by  long  attention  here,  I  thought  the  resolution  I  had  taken,  to  sit 
silent,  was  imposed  by  necessity,  and  would  cost  me  no  effort  to  main 
tain.  With  a  mind  thus  vacant  of  ideas,  and  sinking,  as  I  really  am, 
under  a  sense  of  weakness,  I  imagined  the  very  desire  of  speaking  was 
extinguished  by  the  persuasion  that  I  had  nothing  to  say.  Yet  when  I 
come  to  the  moment  of  deciding  the  vote,  I  start  back  with  dread  from 
the  edge  of  the  pit  into  which  we  are  plunging.  In  my  view  even  the 
minutes  I  have  spent  in  expostulation  have  their  value,,  because  they 
protract  the  crisis,  and  the  short  period  in  which  alone  we  may  resolve 
to  escape  it. 

"  I  have  thus  been  led  by  my  feelings  to  speak  more  at  length  than 
1  had  intended.  Yet  I  have  perhaps  as  little  personal  interest  in  the 
event  as  any  one  here.  There  is,  I  believe,  no  member  who  will  not 
think  his  chance  to  be  a  witness  of  the  consequences  greater  than  mine. 
If,  however,  the  vote  should  pass  to  reject,  and  a  spirit  should  rise,  as 
it  will,  with  the  public  disorders,  to  make  '  confusion  worse  confound- 


232  LIFE   AND   WORKS   OF   FISHER   AMES. 

cd/  even  I,  slender  and  almost  broken  as  my  hold  upon  life  is,  may 
outlive  the  government  and  constitution  of  my  country." — p.  69. 

Fisher  Ames  was  born  at  Dedham,  Massachusetts, 
April  9,  1758.  There  he  continued  to  live,  except  as 
public  duties  required  his  presence  at  the  seat  of  gov 
ernment.  "  His  spotless  youth,"  says  Dr.  Kirkland, 
"  brought  blessings  to  the  whole  remainder  of  his 
life."  At  his  native  place  he  died  July  4,  1808 ;  a 
day  fitly  closing,  though  too  early,  the  valuable  life  of 
a  true  patriot,  in  peace  and  honor.  There  was  a 
great  deal  in  his  mind,  manners,  habits,  and  general 
character,  which  might  well  have  commended  his 
memory  to  the  old  Greek  biographer.  His  last 
thoughts  dwelt  deeply  upon  his  country,  and  upon  a 
condition  of  public  affairs,  which  he  had  employed 
his  best  talents  and  energies  all  his  life  long  to  avert. 
He  regarded  the  doctrines,  upon  which  the  national 
administration  was  then  conducted,  with  a  feeling 
akin  to  horror.  The  same  venerable  friend  whom  we 
have  before  mentioned,  and  who  related  this  incident 
to  the  author  while  he  was  preparing  this  article,  vis 
ited  him,  in  company  with  Mr.  Cabot,  about  ten  days 
before  his  departure.  He  was  then  in  bed.  The 
conversation  fell  upon  the  disheartening  aspect  of  the 
times  and  the  dangers  threatening  the  public  safety, 
from  the  discordant  elements  then  at  work.  "  The 
Union  must  be  preserved,"  said  Mr.  Ames ;  "  things 
are  bad  enough  ;  but  anything  is  better  than  dissolu 
tion." 


HON.   CHARLES   JACKSON. 

[From  the  Monthly  Law  Reporter  ] 


WE  have  already  announced,  as  it  occurred,  the 
lamented  decease  of  this  eminent  jurist  and  citizen. 
Our  number  for  January,  1856,  contained  some  brief 
account  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Suffolk  bar,  in 
recognition  of  the  event ;  of  the  presentation  of  be 
coming  resolutions  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State, 
and  of  the  appropriate  response  of  Chief  Justice 
Shaw.  The  scene  in  the  court-room,  which  place  is 
usually  supposed  to  be  little  better  than  a  mere  arena 
for  the  combats  of  trained  and  conflicting  intellects, 
was,  upon  this  occasion,  peculiarly  affecting.  The 
hall  itself  was  thronged  with  a  dense  assembly  of  the 
legal  brethren  and  personal  friends  of  the  great  law 
yer  departed,  and  of  others,  whom  various  motives  of 
curiosity  or  interested  feeling  draw  together  upon  like 
occasions.  It  was  a  happy  circumstance,  that  one  of 
the  late  judge's  former  pupils,  himself  a  well-known 
leader  at  the  bar,  offered,  and,  we  presume,  prepared, 
the  resolutions  agreed  upon,  as  the  expression  of  the 
common  sentiment.  They  thus  derived,  from  the 
20* 


234  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

influence  of  familiar  intercourse  and  the  ardor  of 
private  friendship,  combined  with  long  habits  of  well- 
founded  respect  for  the  character  of  the  deceased,  a 
point,  a  scope,  a  fitness,  and  a  genial  glow  of  sympa 
thy,  correspondent  with  the  requirements  of  the  sub 
ject  and  the  occasion,  and  far  surpassing  the  ordinary 
formal  tone  of  many  similar  ceremonials.  And  who 
ever  had  the  fortune  to  listen  to  the  reply  of  the 
venerable  Chief  Justice,  often  interrupted  by  the  in 
tensity  of  his  feelings,  must  have  perceived,  that  nei 
ther  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  most  extensive  profes 
sional  practice,  commonly  reckoned  a  somewhat 
hardening,  as  well  as  hard,  school  of  experience, — 
nor  the  loftier  demands  of  eminent  judicial  position, 
necessarily  chill  the  natural  flow  of  human  emo 
tion,  or  make  or  leave  a  truly  great  lawyer  anything 
other  than  the  true  man,  which  nature  intended  him 
to  be. 

It  was  observable  here,  however,  as  must  almost 
always  be  the  case,  that  the  statement  of  the  deliber 
ate  judgment  of  those  who  took  part  in  the  proceed 
ings,  so  far  as  the  character  of  the  mere  lawyer  was 
concerned,  comprehended  only  certain  terms  of  gen 
eralization,  highly  honorable  and  laudatory  it  is  true, 
although  not  especially  distinctive, — but  equally  ap 
plicable  to  many  who  have  gone  before,  as  they  will 
be  to  others  who  may  come  up  hereafter.  This  is 
the  fortune,  we  will  not  call  it  the  misfortune,  of  the 


HON.    CHARLES  JACKSON.  235 

profession.  It  is  the  fate  of  the  great  leader  at  the 
bar,  to  make  hut  a  temporary  mark  and  to  he  sum 
marily  forgotten.  His  life  may  be  one  of  extraordi 
nary  activity  and  bustle.  He  may  seem  to  live  in 
the  full  blaze  of  the  world's  admiring  eye.  He  may 
be  engaged,  through  a  protracted  series  of  years,  in 
the  management  of  successive  causes,  which  demand 
the  exertion  of  all  his  energies  and  faculties,  and 
often,  perhaps,  enlist  all  his  feelings,  and  which  may 
involve  the  very  highest  human  responsibilities ;  and, 
within  a  very  few  years  after  he  has  passed  off  the 
stage,  his  very  name  will  have  become  obliterated 
from  the  memory  of  men,  or  be  only  occasionally 
recalled,  within  the  compass  of  a  very  limited  circle. 
The  poet,  with  somewhat  less  than  his  usual  ob 
servance  of  exact  justice,  supposes  Fame  to  be  nig 
gardly  enough  to  resume  her  awards  of  honor,  even 
those  bestowed  upon  her  chiefest  favorites,  if  a  single 
misfortune  should  occur  to  mar  the  chain  of  success 
ful  achievements : 

"  The  painful  warrior  famoused  for  fight, 

After  a  thousand  victories,  once  foiled, 
Is  from  the  book  of  honor  razed  quite, 
And  all  the  rest  forgot,  for  which  he  toiled." 

But  the  great  lawyer,  in  this  country,  who  has  ad 
vanced  through  successive  triumphs,  to  the  very  pin 
nacle  of  professional  reputation,  may  hope  in  vain  to 
erect  any  lasting  monument  to  his  memory,  unless, 


236  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

indeed,  his  abilities,  usually  at  the  hazard  of  his 
legal  standing,  and  assuredly  to  his  pecuniary  loss, 
have  found  a  field  of  exercise  in  the  senate  as  well  as 
the  forum  ;  or,  unless  he  be  willing  to  sacrifice  his 
professional  emoluments,  for  the  inadequate  compen 
sation  which  attends  the  honor  of  the  bench,  and  thus 
secures,  at  least,  a  legal  immortality,  through  his 
elaborate  judgments  recorded  in  the  books.  It  is 
also  true,  that  the  tenor  of  mere  professional  life  has 
been  usually  found  to  be  too  uneventful  for  biogra 
phy.  And  undoubtedly  the  objects,  upon  which  the 
most  eminent  advocate  employs  his  faculties  at  the 
bar,  are  generally  of  very  transient  interest.  His 
chief  business,  after  all,  is  only  to  apply  long-discov 
ered  and  well-established  principles  to  the  varying 
conditions  of  human  affairs.  And,  however  absorb 
ing  may  be  his  immediate  sympathy  with  each  indi 
vidual  case,  the  actual  interest  in  the  settlement  of 
questions  of  abstract  right  is  very  much  confined  to 
the  parties  directly  concerned.  Even  if  the  habits  of 
his  life  permitted  him  to  glance,  with  the  eye  of 
imagination,  upon  family  secrets  intrusted  to  him, 
sometimes  far  surpassing  the  ordinary  boundaries  of 
fiction,  in  passionate  intensity  of  detail  and  in  extra 
ordinary  development  of  character,  or,  if  professional 
honor  authorized  him  to  make  them  known, — still, 
his  own  peculiar  part,  in  the  control  or  management 
of  such  incidents,  is  little  more  than  that  of  the  good 


HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON.  237 

fairy  in  Oriental  tales,  who  appears  at  the  proper 
moment  certainly,  to  relieve  virtuous  distress  or  to 
defeat  impending  malice ;  but  his  own  intervention 
is,  after  all,  only  incidental,  and  the  main  points  of 
interest  would,  by  no  means,  afford  the  appropriate 
materials  for  his  own  personal  biography. 

It  sometimes  happens,  however,  that  the  natural 
character  of  the  man  stands  out  so  prominently  and 
remarkably,  outside  of  his  professional,  and,  we  may 
say,  his  adventitious  position,  that  the  general  cause 
of  human  good  is  likely  to  be  advanced,  by  selecting 
such  an  instance  for  our  special  observation  and  ex 
ample.  In  the  present  instance,  it  affords  us  a  mel 
ancholy  satisfaction  to  devote  some  portion  of  our 
pages  to  such  a  brief  memoir  of  the  late  Judge 
Jackson  as  our  materials  permit.  For,  in  a  peculiar 
sense,  the  event  of  his  death,  at  an  age  very  much 
exceeding  the  ordinary  bounds  of  human  existence, 
derived  its  importance  from  the  tenor  of  his  life  ;  and 
we  are  unwilling  that  one,  in  whose  character  good 
ness  was  so  fittingly  conjoined  with  intellectual  supe 
riority,  should  pass  entirely  out  of  our  sight,  without 
some  appropriate  notice  in  our  pages.  He  was  born 
in  Newburyport,  May  31st,  1775,  and  died  at  his  resi 
dence,  Bedford  Place,  Boston,  December  13,  1855. 
Having  thus  exceeded  the  great  age  of  eighty  years, 
he  afforded  a  signal  example  of  those,  who  prove  to 
what  an  advanced  period  a  feeble  constitution  may 


238  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

be  made  subservient  and  serviceable  to  the  uses  and 
control  of  the  mind.  Indeed,  very  many  of  his  latter 
years  had  been  spent  in  a  manner  so  secluded  from 
public  observation,  that  few  of  the  present  generation 
would  be  likely  to  know  what  an  important  profes 
sional  and  judicial  position  he  once  occupied.  As  he 
occasionally  appeared  in  the  streets,  however,  accom 
panied  by  his  attendant,  no  observant  stranger  could 
fail  to  indulge  in  some  curious  speculation  upon  the 
history  of  that  feeble  old  man,  with  the  pale  and 
thoughtful  face ;  and  the  universal  respect  of  those 
who  recognized  him  often  must  have  excited  a  still 
deeper  interest  and  prompted  more  earnest  inquiry. 
He  was,  indeed,  one  of  the  few  remaining  links  of 
that  chain,  fast  loosening  its  hold,  and  very  soon  to 
be  drawn  back  into  the  irrevocable  past,  which  con 
nects  our  times  with  a  period,  one  day  to  be  looked 
upon  as  the  great  and  heroic  age  of  this  country ;  a 
period  not  of  perfect  men  certainly,  but  of  a  large 
and  influential  class  of  those,  who  were  bolder  and 
nobler,  as  it  seems  to  us,  and  more  disinterestedly 
brave  and  self-sacrificing  in  the  public  service,  than 
is  common  now, — of  men  who  were  eminent  above 
the  measure  of  this  day  in  the  various  pursuits  of 
professional  life, — and  were  gentlemen  in  the  ordi 
nary  intercourse  of  society,  by  the  example,  the  culti 
vation  and  the  public  recognition  of  honor,  integrity, 
and  just  and  generous  sentiment. 


HON.    CHAELES   JACKSON.  239 

So  far  as  these  causes  might  tend  to  the  formation 
of  a  worthy  and  admirable  character,  Judge  Jackson 
had  the  advantage  of  them  in  the  circle  of  his  early 
acquaintance,  and  especially  in  the  home  of  his  youth. 
For  his  father  was  truly  a  prince  amongst  merchant 
princes, — an  ardent  patriot,  a  thorough  Washington] an 
in  politics,  a  Federalist  of  the  old  school, — what  would 
now  probably  be  called  an  aristocrat,  unless  he  may 
be  considered  to  have  somewhat  qualified  this  stig- 
matic  appellation,  by  undeviating  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  the  country,  by  the  most  generous  efforts 
and  sacrifices  in  its  behalf,  by  the  faithful  perform 
ance  of  every  private  duty,  and  the  clear  and  able 
discharge  of  many  high  public  trusts ;  in  fact,  by 
entire  integrity  and  purity  of  life,  and  unsurpassed 
courtesy  of  manners ;  securing  to  himself  universal 
respect  while  he  lived,  and  the  common  lamentation 
when  he  died,  and  enabling  him  to  leave  to  his  chil 
dren  a  name  better  than  rubies,  and  which  had  its 
undoubted  influence  in  the  formation  of  their  charac 
ters,  and  in  the  tenor  of  their  histories  and  fortunes. 

At  the  period  of  Judge  Jackson's  birth,  Newbury- 
port,  the  place  of  his  father's  origin  and  residence 
then,  and  long  afterwards,  and  during  his  most  pros 
perous  days,  stood  amongst  the  first,  if  it  was  not  the 
highest,  on  the  list  of  the  secondary  class  of  towns 
on  the  American  coast.  It  still  retains  its  natural 
beauty,  its  ancient  mansions,  and  much  else  which 


240  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

yet  constitutes  it  a  place  of  no  common  interest. 
But  many  of  the  elements  of  its  former  distinction 
have  long  since  passed  away.  In  those  days,  how 
ever,  it  was  to  this  town  that  young  men  were  often 
sent  from  the  capital,  and  elsewhere,  to  learn  the 
skill,  the  habits,  the  discipline  arid  the  principles  then 
deemed  requisite  for  a  merchant ;  for  there  were  the 
counting-rooms  of  men  who,  besides  the  evidence  of 
their  successful  enterprise,  had  secured  the  public 
confidence,  by  eminent  services  performed  and  marked 
ability  displayed  in  the  public  cause.  Jonathan  Jack 
son,  the  father  of  the  judge,  was  a  man  of  education 
and  accomplishment,  as  well  as  talent,  and  was  a 
valuable  member  of  the  Continental  Congress  in  the 
year  1780.  His  townsman,  Tristram  Dalton,  equally 
eminent  as  a  merchant  and  a  man,  was  one  of  the 
two  senators  first  elected  to  Congress  by  Massachusetts 
under  the  constitution ;  and  Nathaniel  Tracy,  uncle 
of  Judge  Jackson,  more  successful  than  either,  in  the 
acquisitions  of  maritime  enterprise,  is  reputed  to 
have  supplied  government  with  no  less  than  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty-seven  thousand  dollars,  during  the 
revolutionary  war — out  of  a  fortune  so  ample,  as  to 
make  the  question  of  repayment  of  such  a  sum  a 
matter  of  indifference,  and  which  was  really  sacrificed 
by  a  private  gentleman  to  the  general  necessity. 
Men  like  these,  with  their  compeers,  of  more  or  less 
pretension  and  success,  would  naturally  give  a  very 


HON.    CHARLES    JACKSON.  241 

decided  character  to  a  town ;  and  many  agreeable 
associations,  which  make  its  name  more  than  usually 
familiar,  arc  to  be  traced  back  to  this  day  of  its 
former  pride  and  prosperity. 

At  the  same  period,  also,  Newburyport  was  the 
residence  of  Chief  Justice  Thcophilus  Parsons,  then 
in  the  zenith  of  his  preeminent  professional  reputa 
tion, — from  whose  office  Rufus  King,  John  Quincy 
Adams,  Robert  Treat  Paine,  Benjamin  Gorham,  and 
a  long  file  of  other  distinguished  persons, — of  whom, 
we  believe  one,  Mr.  Charles  Phelps  of  Hadley,  still 
survives, — entered  upon  their  various  useful  and  bril 
liant  courses  of  life.  There,  also,  resided  the  bishop 
of  the  diocese  of  Massachusetts,  Dr.  Bass,  and  Dr. 
Spring,  father  of  Gardiner  Spring  of  New  York,  and 
who  had  been  chaplain  to  Arnold's  romantic  expedi 
tion  for  the  conquest  of  Quebec,  which  took  its  de 
parture  from  Newburyport,  and  who  wras,  afterwards, 
a  chaplain  in  the  regular  army  ;  and  there  was  Mur 
ray,  the  Presbyterian  minister,  than  whom  no  more 
eloquent,  or  more  learned .  divine  of  the  times  could 
be  named, — and  there,  Whitfield,  the  wonder  of  his 
day,  who,  for  many  years,  had  occasionally  preached 
to  the  inhabitants,  had  died,  not  long  before,  and 
found  that  rest,  which  its  earth  still  aifords  to  his 
bones.  There  was  also  the  early  instructor  of  Charles 
Jackson,  Nicholas  Pike,  author  of  the  first  American 
arithmetic,  of  whom  one  of  his  biographers  says — 
21 


242  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

"  He  was  ready  in  the  classics,  and  seldom  took  a 
book  to  hear  his  pupils  recite," — and  close  by,  at 
Dummer  Academy,  was  "  Master  Moody,"  famous 
above  all  others,  and  preceptor  of  many  of  the  lead 
ing  men  of  the  last  century.  It  was  the  home,  also, 
of  the  excellent  and  beloved  physician  of  this  distin 
guished  circle,  and  of  the  poor  quite  as  much,  Dr. 
Swett,  father  of  Col.  Samuel  Swett  of  this  city — and 
whose  name,  after  the  lapse  of  sixty  years  from  his 
decease,  still 

Smells  sweet  and  blossoms  in  the  dust, — 

though  a  physician  not  often  has  the  opportunity,  or 
the  fortune,  to  leave  behind  him  much  enduring 
memorial  of  his  fame.  There,  also,  was  Judge  Brad 
bury,  of  the  Supreme  Court,  with  whom  Parsons 
studied,  and  Dudley  Atkins  Tyng,  collector  of  the 
port  under  Washington,  and  afterwards  reporter  of 
the  early  volumes  of  the  Massachusetts  decisions,  and 
connected  with  some  of  the  principal  families  of  Mas 
sachusetts  ;  and  there  were  born,  a  few  years  before, 
John  Lowell,  son  of  the  famous  Judge  John  Lowell, 
and  in  the  same  year  with  Charles  Jackson,  Francis 
C.  Lowell,  brother  of  John,  to  whom  our  chief  manu 
facturing  city  owes  its  origin  and  its  name.  Here, 
also,  might  be  found,  during  the  youth  of  Jackson, 
a  very  considerable  body  of  revolutionary  worthies, 
amongst  them  a  general  officer,  distinguished  at 


HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON.  243 

Bunker-hill,  and  others  who  attained  high  rank  in  the 
military  service  of  the  country,  in  the  course  of  the 
war.  No  town  upon  our  seaboard  entered  into  that 
long  struggle,  with  readier  or  higher  spirit  than 
Newburyport ;  and  it  is  easy  to  conceive  how  the 
character  of  its  veteran  sons,  returning  from  the  tri 
umphant  issue  of  so  great  a  cause,  must  have  tended 
to  promote  its  general  elevation  and  respectability. 
Under  such  circumstances,  therefore,  and  amidst  such 
influences,  the  subject  of  this  notice  was  born  and 
bred,  while  there  existed  in  his  place  of  birth  an  ener 
gy,  an  elevation,  a  style  of  living,  a  tone  of  society 
and  a  spirit,  scarcely  to  be  imagined  in  one  of  the 
lesser  seaport  towns  of  our  own  time.  We  fear  that 
we  may  have  been  betrayed  into  a  too  fond  recital  of 
departed  glories  and  worthies ;  "but  it  is  not,  we  be 
lieve,  without  its  use,  and  we  rejoice  that  there  are 
those  yet  left,  to  whom  it  will  prove  a  subject  of 
unfailing  interest. 

We  have  no  intention  of  writing  any  elaborate 
sketch  of  the  life  of  Judge  Jackson,  even  were  we 
qualified  for  this  duty,  by  anything  more  than  an 
ordinary  familiarity  with  the  distinguishing  traits  of 
his  character.  Our  only  hope  has  been,  to  be  able  to 
pay  some  not  unfitting  tribute  to  the  memory  of  a 
good  citizen,  and  a  good  man. 

After  spending  the  period  of  his  youth  in  his  native 
town,  he  entered  Cambridge  college,  at  an  early  age, 


244  HON.    CHARLES    JACKSON. 

in  the  same  class  with  the  late  Dr.  Pierce  of  Brook- 
line,  and  Charles  Coffin  of  his  own  town,  afterwards 
president  of  Greenville  and  Knoxville  colleges,  in 
Tennessee,  and  who  was  his  nearest  competitor  for 
the  highest  college  honors,  which  Jackson  secured. 
He  pursued  the  study  of  the  law  with  Parsons,  at 
Newburyport ;  and  it  was  cither  in  regard  to  the 
period  of  his  legal  studies,  or  to  that  immediately 
after  he  entered  upon  the  practice  of  his  profession, 
of  which  we  have  heard  it  said,  in  his  own  town,  that 
lie  never  looked  at  a  newspaper  for  three  years.  Such 
an  instance  of  self-restraint,  in  a  young  man,  and  of 
devotion  to  his  peculiar  duties,  certainly  gave  evi 
dence  of  qualities,  significant  of  his  future  eminence 
in  a  profession,  which  he  had  thus  made  the  sole 
mistress  of  his  affections.  Accordingly,  he  won  the 
entire  approbation  of  a  teacher  not  easy  to  please, 
and  Parsons  is  known  to  have  said  of  him,  when  he 
entered  upon  practice — "  Of  all  my  pupils,  no  one 
iias  left  my  office  better  fitted  for  his  profession  " — 
[and  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  King  and  Adams 
had  preceded  him] — "he  will  prove  himself  the 
American  Blackstonc."  No  man  could  be  better 
qualified  than  Parsons  to  form  an  accurate  judgment 
on  such  a  subject,  and  we  have  no  doubt  the  predic 
tion  was  fully  warranted  by  the  elegance,  the  extent, 
and  the  soundness  of  his  pupil's  acquisitions.  If  it 
eventually  failed  in  its  specific  application,  the  cause 


HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON.  245 

of  such  deficiency  is  to  be  assigned  to  enfeebled 
health,  rather  than  to  any  want  of  the  necessary 
ability  and  accomplishment.  But,  notwithstanding 
his  devotion  to  his  profession,  Mr.  Jackson  was  said 
to  be  the  most  popular  young  man  in  Newburyport ; 
a  distinction  owing,  no  doubt,  to  the  excellence  of  his 
disposition,  to  that  amenity  of  manners,  which  was  in 
him  a  peculiarly  observable  trait,  and  to  the  unspotted 
purity  of  his  life, — as  well  as  to  a  natural  pride  in 
the  ability  and  character  of  a  young  townsman, — for 
which  laudable  and  patriotic  feeling,  the  citizens  of 
his  native  town  have  often  shown  a  remarkable  pre 
disposition. 

With  such  qualities  and  advantages,  it  must  follow, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  that  Mr.  Jackson  would  rise, 
steadily  and  rapidly,  to  the  highest  position  of  profes 
sional  eminence.  At  the  bar,  he  was  trusted,  beloved 
and  honored  ;  and  when,  eventually,  he  received  the 
appointment  of  one  of  the  justices  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  State,  upon  the  decease  of  Judge  Sedg- 
wick,  in  the  year  1813,  it  was  with  the  approbation  of 
all  good  men.  We  have  always  been  informed  that 
Judge  Jackson  was  what  might  be  styled  a  model 
judge;  that  he  was  distinguished  upon  the  bench, 
which  he  adorned  for  only  the  brief  period  of  about 
ten  years,  for  a  marked  composure  of  demeanor,  for 
entire  precision  of  legal  learning,  for  extraordinary 
urbanity  of  manner,  for  an  absolute  freedom  from 
21* 


246  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

passion  or  prejudice,  for  a  certain,  native,  high-minded 
independence  of  opinion,  and  for  an  impartiality, 
which  amounted,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  exem 
plification  of  abstract  justice  ;  yet,  with  a  decisive 
inclination,  whenever  the  opportunity  occurred,  to 
present  the  equitable  view  of  a  case.  We  need  not 
say,  therefore,  that  he  exhibited  that  first  qualifica 
tion  of  a  judge — uprightness — a  characteristic,  hap 
pily,  of  judicial  position  in  Massachusetts,  as  a  general 
rule,  and  maintaining  itself  comparatively  unsullied, 
even  to  our  own  somewhat  wavering  times.  But  we 
firmly  believe,  if  the  memory  of  any  one  of  those  who 
have  passed  off  the  stage,  in  the  bright  array  of  Mas 
sachusetts  judges,  were  to  be  appealed  to,  for  a  signal 
example  of  judicial  purity,  the  name  of  Charles  Jack 
son  would  be  the  first  to  occur.  And,  since  the 
position  of  a  judge  upon  the  earth  is  not,  as  it  is  too 
often  considered,  that  of  a  mere  man  of  business, 
according  to  the  ordinary  estimate  of  human  affairs, 
but  he  is,  in  some  imperfect  sense,  the  vice-chancellor 
and  substitute  of  infinite  wisdom,  justice,  and  power, 
— we  know  not  what  more  could  be  said  in  honor  of 
any  person,  or  why  any  one  could  wish  to  bequeath  a 
clearer  and  nobler  reputation  to  his  country. 

There  are  certain  opinions  of  Judge  Jackson,  in 
the  books,  which  may  be  referred  to  as  leading  and 
most  valuable  judgments.  But  any  special  detail  of 
their  merits  would  be  out  of  place  here.  In  conse- 


HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON.  247 

qucncc  of  failing  health,  he  resigned  his  office  in 
1823,  and  the  public  thus  lost  the  benefit  of  those 
services,  which  he  might,  perhaps,  have  rendered 
during  some  considerable  portion,  at  least,  of  the 
subsequent  thirty  years  granted  to  his  honored  life. 
For  the  purpose  of  relaxation  and  recovery,  he  soon 
sailed  for  England ;  and  as  evidence  of  a  reputation 
not  confined  to  home  or  native  country,  and  of  per 
sonal  characteristics  well  fitted  to  promote  his  inter 
course  with  intelligent  and  cultivated  society  every 
where,  we  quote  from  a  letter  of  a  gentleman,  writing 
from  London  to  a  friend  in  Newburyport : — "  Two  of 
your  townsmen"  (the  other  was  Jacob  Perkins) 
"  now  fill  the  public  eye  of  England,  and  are  the  sub 
jects  of  public  and  private  conversation." 

The  remaining  years  of  Judge  Jackson's  life  were 
passed  in  studious  retirement,  and  in  agreeable  com 
munion  with  an  extended  circle  of  family  and  social 
friends.  In  1836  he  was  appointed  head  of  the  com 
mission,  under  the  resolve  of  the  legislature,  for  the 
revision  of  the  statutes  of  Massachusetts,  of  the  char 
acter  of  which  important  undertaking  we  need  say 
nothing.  Excepting  this  arduous  labor,  and  the  pub 
lication  of  his  learned  treatise  on  Real  Actions,  to  be 
referred  to  an  earlier  date,  we  are  aware  of  no  other 
public  service  performed  by  him,  while  he  was,  in 
deed,  necessarily  and  carefully  nursing  the  often 
flickering  flame  of  life.  In  politics,  he  clung  with 


248  HON.    CHARLES   JACKSON. 

the  ardor  and  tenacity  of  settled  principle  to  the 
ancient  faith  of  the  old  Essex  platform,  of  which  his 
master,  Parsons,  so  admirably  sketched  the  outline  in 
his  famous  "Resolutions;"  upon  the  basis  of  which  so 
many  of  the  noblest  men,  whom  this  country  lias  ever 
counted  amongst  its  jewels,  have  so  often  uttered 
words  of  warning  and  wisdom  and  encouragement 
and  patriotism,  in  the  roughest  times  the  country  has 
ever  seen.  In  religion,  he  was,  as  we  have  good 
reason  to  believe,  what  was  said  with  equal  truth  of 
John  Selden,  "  a  resolved  serious  Christian ; "  and, 
unlike  too  many  professional  men,  he  found  no  ex 
cuse  for  the  neglect  of  its  duties,  in  the  engrossing 
demands  of  ordinary  cares  and  labors.  Indeed,  his 
life  was  one  long  routine  of  fulfilled  duties,  which  a 
natural  sense  of  rectitude  made  pleasures.  We  pre 
sume  he  had  faults,  for  he  was  human ;  if  so,  they 
were  not  public,  and  we  know  not  what  they  were. 
He  was  a  gentleman,  by  nature,  sentiment,  and  cul 
tivation.  During  his  whole  life,  he  was  beloved, 
esteemed  and  respected.  He  dies,  without  a  blot 
upon  his  memory,  and  has  thus  nobly  fulfilled  the 
only  real  purposes  of  human  existence. 


MR.  CHOATE'S   LECTURE 


ROGERS    AND    HIS    TIMES 


WE  imagine,  it  will  be  found  not  a  very  easy  matter 
to  present  even  an  intelligible  sketch  of  Mr.  Choate's 
great  lecture,  delivered  on  Monday  evening.  No 
description  could  really  furnish  any  adequate  idea  of 
such  a  performance.  As  well  might  mortal  painter 
endeavor  to  catch  upon  canvas  those  hues  of  heaven, 
which  kindle  into  beauty  and  vanish  in  the  trail  of  the 
descending  day.  And  just  as  no  imagination  could 
recall  those  shapes  of  capricious  loveliness,  momenta 
rily  shifting  and  finally  melting  into  that  unfathom 
able  ocean  of  golden  light ;  so  those  who  have  subse 
quently  attempted  to  report  this  great  orator  (for 
assuredly  no  gray  goose-quill,  detached  from  its  parent 
wing,  could  be  quite  fleet  enough  to  follow  him,  at  the 
moment)  have  thus  found  the  vividness,  the  glow, 
the  rapidity,  and  the  sparkle  of  his  utterly  unexpected 
diagonalisms,  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  their  ability 
to  set  down. 


250  MR.  CHOATE'S  LECTURE  ON 

Whoever  has  been  in  the  habit  of  hearing  Mr. 
Choatc  at  the  bar,  or  upon  occasions  of  public  interest, 
could  not  fail  to  be  prepared  to  listen  to  a  discourse, 
instinct  with  thought,  glittering  with  the  fire  of 
genius,  bubbling  and  boiling  over  with  the  stir  and 
riotous  action  of  a  teeming  and  irrepressible  fancy. 
Confessedly,  it  is  a  very  extraordinary  thing,  that  this 
great,  laborious,  and  eminently  successful  lawyer,  who 
occupies  a  place  at  the  Bar,  with  no  man  above,  and 
no  man  very  near  him ;  who  so  wonderfully  exempli 
fies  the  axiom,  that  the  part  is  contained  in  the  whole 
— as  it  is  in  complete  and  not  in  imperfect  works — by 
employing  constantly  the  minutest  technical  details  of 
his  profession,  with  the  same  unvarying,  accurate 
skill,  as  that  with  which  he  grasps  its  broadest  princi 
ples  and  wields  the  entire  machinery  of  its  philosophi 
cal  learning ;  and  who  devotes  more  daily  hours  to 
the  trial  and  argument  of  causes,  than  any  three  or 
four  other  persons  together ;  that  such  a  man,  so  giftr 
ed,  so  constituted,  and  so  occupied,  should  have  kept 
his  mind  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  freshness  of 
earlier  literary  and  classical  acquisitions — should  have 
pressed  on  breast-high  wifti  whatever  is  worthy  of 
attention  in  the  literature  of  to-day,  and,  on  an  occa 
sion  like  the  present,  should  have  been  able  to  charm, 
delight,  and,  we  may  say,  fascinate  an  audience  as 
intelligent  and  cultivated  as,  we  presume,  is  ordinarily 
assembled  in  this  or  any  other  American  city. 


ROGERS   AND    HIS   TIMES.  251 

We  doubt  very  much  whether  such  an  exhibition 
could  be  had  anywhere  else,  or  from  any  other  source. 
Mr.  Choate  is  a  person  eminently  idiosyncratic.  There 
is  not,  and  never  was,  a  speaker  exactly  like  him ;  and 
we  have  never  heard  anybody  speak  who,  by  the  gift 
of  nature,  knew  better  how  to  present  his  strong 
points  in  their  most  attractive  aspect,  or  to  make  his 
weak  ones  tell  more  effectively.  For  the  public  per 
formances  of  Mr.  Choate,  judged  according  to  the 
strict  canons  of  art,  are  by  no  means  perfect.  A  cold 
criticism,  subsequently  applied,  (for  we  suppose  only 
a  very  cold  critic  would  think  of  such  a  criterion, 
under  the  immediate  spell  of  the  orator's  fascinating 
eloquence),  may  undoubtedly  detect  inequalities,  de 
ficiencies,  thought  too  rapidly  conceived,  expressions 
now  and  then  inadequately  chosen.  For  our  own 
part,  we  confess  our  disposition  to  yield  ourselves  up 
to  the  madness  of  the  hour.  So  far  from  allowing 
ourselves  to  be  diverted  from  the  general  effect  of  a 
noble  performance,  like  that  of  Monday  evening,  by 
any  of  those  occasional  irregular  but  characteristic 
lapses,  we  should  as  soon  think  of  quitting  the  broad 
bosom  of  the  glorious  river,  which  is  floating  us  pros 
perously  on  towards  happiness  and  home,  for  any  of 
the  side-creeks  and  false  bays,  into  which  the  abound 
ing  stream  pours  some  of  its  superfluous  waters. 

It  would  be  equally  unfair  and  useless  to  undertake 
to  judge  Mr.  Choate  by  any  of  the  ordinary  standards. 


252  MR.  CHOATE'S  LECTURE  ON 

In  some  sense,  like  Shakspeare's,  his  genius  exceeds 
their  bounds,  and  is  not,  therefore,  amenable  to  their 
laws.  His  mind  is  full  to  overflowing ;  and  the  infi 
nite  relations  of  things,  in  their  remoter  as  well  as 
their  more  intimate  coherences,  present  themselves  to 
his  imagination  and  are  made  subservient  to  his  uses, 
in  a  manner  not  always  easily  to  be  appreciated  by  a 
common  mind.  We  dare  say  there  are  those,  in  his 
own  profession  or  out  of  it,  in  the  same  sphere  of  life, 
who  no  more  understand  him,  in  his  loftier  flights, 
than  they  do  poetry,  in  the  very  ecstasy  of  its  inspira 
tion.  We  have  seen  persons  to  whom  Rachel  appeared 
absolutely  ugly,  or,  at  least,  as  exhibiting  only  the 
icy,  outside  glitter  of  a  sort  of  fiendish  fascination,  in 
the  manifestation  of  her  extraordinary  powers  ;  to 
others  she  seemed  almost  divinely  lovely,  and  the 
express  personification  of  all  those  qualities  and 
capacities,  which  occasionally  prove  how  humanity 
may  sometimes  get  wings  and  soar  out  of  the  dead\ 
level  of  mere  passionless  routine  and  mediocrity. 
This  casual  comparison  is  by  no  means  a  fanciful 
one  ;  for  there  is  a  good  deal  of  resemblance  between 
these  two  remarkable  personages,  of  different  coun 
tries,  callings,  and  sexes.  In  his  public  efforts,  Mr. 
Choate  unfolds,  in  no  mean  degree,  those  blended 
shades  of  pathos  and  humor,  which  betoken  tragic 
power ;  and  we  have  often  thought,  that  on  the  stage 


ROGERS   AND    HIS   TIMES.  253 

lie  would  have  shown  himself  a  tragic  actor,  as  incom 
parable,  as  he  is  without  a  competitor  at  the  Bar. 

There  will  always  be  carpers  at  such  characters. 
Through  some  perversity  of  nature,  men  seem  often 
to  take  pleasure  in  bolstering  up  weakness  and  inani 
ty,  and  in  throwing  obstacles  in  the  way  of  whatever 
asserts  genuine  claims  to  superiority.  Genius  finally 
wins  its  way  to  its  uppermost  heights,  only  through 
clouds  and  storms ;  or  to  drop  the  figure,  through  envy 
and  detraction,  faint  praise  accorded,  or  in  spite  of 
assent  altogether  withheld.  It  would  sometimes  seem 
an  almost  inevitable  rule,  that  men  agree,  with  one 
consent,  to  praise  that  which  needs  it  most,  and  to  tear 
away,  on  the  other  hand,  from  great  merit  whatever 
fairly  belongs  to  it.  In  the  one  case,  no  man's  self- 
love  is  wounded,  by  commending  that  which  he  con 
ceives  to  be  somewhat  beneath  his  own  powers ;  in  the 
other,  every  concession  which  he  makes  is  only  an 
acknowledgment  of  his  own  individual  inferiority. 
Of  course,  a  man  like  Mr.  Choate  is  beyond  all  these 
impediments  to  his  progress  now,  and  can  look  down 
upon  them  compassionately,  unless  he  prefers,  as  we 
hope,  to  look  up.  But  we  should  like  to  see  those, 
who  are  most  inclined  to  disparage  such  a  lecture  as 
Mr.  Choate  delivered,  try  to  imitate  it,  and  so  soon 
learn  that,  whether  it  seem  to  them  great  or  small, 
in  its  height  or  breadth,  its  golden  profusion,  and  its 
rolling,  overflowing,  flashing  tide  of  thought  and 
22 


254  MR.  CHOATE'S  LECTURE  ON 

illustration,  it  would  be  found  quite  beyond  the  range 
of  their  most  ambitious  efforts,  as  much  as  some  of  its 
flights  really  transcend  the  capacity  of  ordinary  con 
ception.  In  fact,  it  requires  much  higher  powers,  to 
accomplish  any  great  work,  however  subject  to  critical 
exception,  than  to  discover  and  point  out  those  inevi 
table  imperfections,  to  which  all  human  perform 
ances  are  liable. 

We  did  not  set  out  with  any  purpose  of  offering  an 
analysis  of  this  remarkable  lecture.  We  have  heard 
the  observation,  that  it  was  not  exactly  what  was  to 
be  expected  of  Mr.  Choate — which,  we  suppose,  means 
that  it  did  not  entirely  correspond  with  certain  indefi 
nite  and  extravagant  expectations,  which  no  man 
ever  did  or  ever  can  satisfy.  We  thought  it  quite 
equal  to  his  best  efforts,  and  if  not,  yet  in  certain 
respects  superior  to  what  other  men  could  do.  It 
exhibited  all  those  points,  which  are  sometimes  ac 
counted  amongst  the  faults  of  this  eminent  orator,  and  \ 
it  glittered  with  the  fervor  and  showering  fire  of 
genius — flinging  out  a  word,  here  and  there,  which 
sparkled  in  its  place  like  some  diamond  of  incompa 
rable  lustre — drawing  its  illustrations  out  of  clefts 
and  caverns  at  the  height  of  the  rocks,  inaccessible 
to  the  sweep  of  ordinary  thought,  or  from  depths  of 
the  sea,  which  only  the  imagination  of  the  hardiest 
diver  would  venture  to  explore. 

We  have  also  heard  this  performance  characterized 


ROGERS   AND    HIS   TIMES.  255 

as  discursive.  To  our  apprehension,  it  possessed  a 
certain  higher  order  and  propriety  of  parts,  suffi 
ciently  luminous  in  itself,  and  amply  consistent  with 
its  subject.  Other  critics  have  suggested,  we  arc  told, 
that  some  of  its  channels  of  thought  indicated  the 
results  of  Mr.  Choatc's  reading,  amongst  the  great 
writers  of  our  own  and  of  other  times.  We  have 
little  doubt,  without  making  any  reference  for  the 
sake  of  comparison,  that  the  beautiful  tribute  to  old 
age,  with  which  Mr.  Choate  ushered  in  his  address, 
may  have  much  coincidence  of  sentiment  with  that 
noblest  essay  of  Cicero,  "  De  Senectute."  We  should 
judge  that  Mr.  Choate  had  been  a  reader  of  Lord 
Bacon.  We  make  no  question  his  mind  has  been 
more  or  less  imbued  with  the  vital  sentiment  of  cer 
tain  works,  showing  how  a  new  style  and  spirit  of 
modern  letters  sprang  out  of  the  embers  of  the  French 
Revolution,  like  the  young  and  vigorous  growth  cover 
ing  with  fresh  luxuriance  the  ashes  of  the  forest, 
swept  over  by  consuming  fire  ;  it  was  quite  evident 
he  is  an  admirer  of  the  fathers  and  loaders  of 
English  literature, — the  ornaments,  the  honors,  an4 
lights  of  the  world,  upon  whose  writings  the  mind 
feeds  and  grows,  and  to  which  it  is  indebted  for  fur 
nishing  it  with  new  thought,  or  recalling  the  old  which 
had  been  forgotten. 

He  who  has  accustomed  himself  to  habitual  asso 
ciation  with  such  writers  no  more  loses  his  own  indi- 


256  MR.  CHOATE'S  LECTURE  ON 

viduality,  than  the  flower  forfeits  its  native  form  and 
beauty,  though  it  developes  a  lovelier  hue  and  grace, 
when  it  is  transplanted  into  a  more  congenial  soil. 
By  consequence  of  such  studies^  instead  of  immature 
thought,  crude  and  feeble  conception  and  elaborate 
shallowness,  or  a  mere  vacant  and  meretriciously  bediz 
ened  essay,  like  a  hollow  pillar  of  sapless  wood,  encir 
cled  with  artificial  flowers, — we  have  just  such  a  fresh, 
thoughtful,  suggestive,  glowing  lecture, — the  more 
liable  to  be  misapprcciated,  since  it  was  certainly  very 
far  out  of  the  common  course, — as  that  with  which 
Mr.  Choate  enchanted  an  expressively  silent  audience, 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  on  Monday  evening.  It  was 
gratifying  beyond  measure  to  listen  to  those  philo 
sophical  deductions  of  principles  and  results,  so  broad, 
sound,  generous  and  noble,  so  fitted  to  advance  truth, 
to  maintain  honor,  to  dignify  manhood,  to  cheer  and 
sweeten  life.  Even  if  we  might  not  assent  to  all  its 
critical  exemplifications  and  instances,  in  our  opinion 
the  lecture  was  such  a  lofty  and  generous  intellectual 
effort,  that  we  wish  we  knew  where  to  look,  either 
now  or  for  the  future,  in  order  to  justify  our  hope  of 
other  such  literary  performances. 

If  we  were  to  select,  after  that  most  happy  and 
self-deprecatory  opening,  the  portion  of  the  lecture 
which  seemed  to  us  more  than  usually  admirable,  it 
was  the  reply  to  CaiiylQ's  futile  blow  at  Walter  Scott. 
There  could  remain  no  doubt  on  the  mind  of  whoever 


ROGERS   AND   HIS   TIMES.  257 

was  present,  that  this  splendid  and  carefully  wrought 
passage  went  thrilling  to  the  hearts  of  the  assembly, 
and  filled  and  satisfied  their  understandings  with  an 
argument  at  once  eloquent,  original,  and  conclusive. 
For  our  own  part,  we  can  only  express  our  wish,  that 
an  ^intellectual  exercise  of  such  extraordinary  power 
and  brilliancy,  and  calculated  to  produce  so  salutary 
an  influence,  might  be  in  the  hands,  as  well  as  in  the 
ears  and  mouths  of  the  public ;  and  we  sincerely  trust 
that  Mr.  Choatc  may  be  induced  to  yield  his  reluc 
tance,  for  this  once,  and  put  forth  in  print  a  perform 
ance,  which  we  cannot  help  feeling  confident  would 
tend  very  much  to  the  benefit  of  his  permanent  repu 
tation. 

22* 


A  SHAKESPEARIAN  RESEARCH. 


THAT  passage  of  Shakespeare,  which  has  given 
occasion  to  numerous  annotations  and  disquisitions, 
perhaps  the  most  unprofitable  long  drawn  out,  is  the 
one  quoted  below.  It  occurs  in  that  passionate  mon 
ologue  of  Juliet,  uttered  while  she  is  impatiently 
awaiting  the  approach  of  night,  to  cover  her  con 
certed  interview  with  Romeo : — 

Gallop  apace,  you  fiery-footed  steeds, 
Towards  Phoebus'  mansion ;  such  a  wagoner 
As  Phaeton  would  whip  you  to  the  West, 
And  bring  in  cloudy  night  immediately  : 
Spread  thy  close  curtain,  love-performing  night ! 
That  runaicay's  eyes  may  wink,  and  lloinco 
Leap  to  these  arms,  untalked  of  and  unseen,  &c. 

ROMEO  AND  JULIET,  Act  II.,  Sc.  2. 

In  the  quarto  and  folio  editions,  the  word  run- 
awaifs  is  written  in  the  ancient  fashion,  "  run- 
awaycs,"  and  the  point  at  issue  has  been  to  ascertain 
whom  Shakespeare  meant  to  indicate  by  this  appella 
tion.  To  exhibit  the  full  variety  of  discussion,  in 
which  Shakespeare's  editors  and  annotators  have  in 
dulged  upon  this  subject,  would  be  to  display  quite  a 
voluminous  mass  of  laborious,  if  not  ingenious  criti 
cism,  and  the  course  of  opinion  revealed  affords  a  very 


A    SHAKESPEARIAN   RESEARCH.  259 

curious  specimen  of  hopeless  conjecture.  Whoever 
desires  to  consult  the  older  authorities,  on  this  point, 
will  find  them  stated  at  length,  in  the  Variorum 
edition  of  the  poet's  works  ;  while  a  very  ample,  elab 
orate  and  able  article  on  the  subject,  containing  ref 
erences  to  the  more  modern  suggestions  of  critics,  in 
England  and  this  country,  maybe  seen  in  the  "  Shake 
speare's  Scholar  "  of  Mr.  Richard  Grant  White,  pp. 
372,  387. 

Mr.  Singer,  in  his  note  on  this  passage,  says  that 
"  Dr.  Warburton  thought  that  the  run-away  in  ques 
tion  was  the  sun;  but  Mr.  Heath  has  most  completely 
disproved  this  opinion," — 011  the  ground,  that  Juliet 
could  not  consistently  complain  of  the  tardiness  of 
the  sun,  or  Phoebus,  to  whom  she  had  just  before 
assigned  "  fiery-footed  steeds."  Douce,  it  seems,  in 
sists  that  Juliet  applies  the  term  to  herself,  as  a 
runaway  from  her  duty  to  her  parents.  Monck 
Mason  proposed  Rcnomifs,  that  is  Rename 's ;  Zach- 
ary  Jackson,  unawares,  which  was  adopted  by  Collier 
and  Knight ;  Dyce  suggested  rude  day's,  and,  being 
dissatisfied  himself  with  this  explanation,  subsequently 
wanders  off  amongst  "  roving  eyes  ;  "  which  he  likes 
not  much  better.  Stecvens,  with  some  touch  of  poet 
ical  instinct,  clings  manfully  to  runaway's,  though 
evidently  not  understanding  the  meaning  of  the  al 
lusion.  Mr.  Halpin  agrees  with  this,  and  thinks 
the  phrase  applies  to  Cupid,  "  Venus'  Runaway,"  so 


260  A   SHAKESPEARIAN  RESEARCH. 

styled  by  Mosclms,  and,  after  him,  by  Ben  Johnson  ; 
which  theory,  at  least,  conveys  an  intelligible  and 
poetical  meaning,  with  this  objection,  however,  that 
Cupid's  eyes,  on  the  occasion,  ought  to  be  open, 
rather  than  shut.  It  appears,  however,  that  Mr. 
Heath,  long  ago,  conjectured  the  word  to  be  a  mis 
print  for  "Rumour's."  With  this  Mr.  Singer  now 
substantially  coincides,  substituting,  however,  ru 
mour  er^s  ;  and  Mr.  White,  who  had  originally  believed 
that  this  "  incomprehensible  runaway  "  was  an  error, 
which  would  "  probably  remain  forever  uncorrected," 
at  last  falls  in  with  the  conjecture  of  Mr.  Heath,  and 
asks  if  there  "  can  be  any  doubt,  that  rumoure's  eyes 
were  the  words  written  by  the  poet  ?  " 

Now,  in  order  to  explain  this  passage,  if  possible, 
let  us  resolve  it  into  different  language,  conveying 
precisely  the  same  ideas  throughout;  and  it  may 
stand  thus, — 

Make  your  best  haste,  oh  swift  steeds  of  the  sun,  to 
be  stalled,  for  the  night,  at  the  mansion  of  Phoebus, 
in  the  West.  If  such  a  wagoner,  as  Phaeton  once  of 
old  was,  only  had  the  reins,  he  would  put  you  to 
your  mottle,  and,  under  the  whip,  would  you  dash 
through  heaven  to  your  place  of  rest,  and  bring  on 
night  at  once.  Now,  let  it  be  so,  love-performing 
night !  Thus,  now,  as  then,  quickly  spread  thy  close 
curtain, — that  runaway's  eyes  may  wink  !  Such  be 
the  speed !  Let  this  fiery  charioteer — this  runaway 


A   SHAKESPEARIAN   RESEARCH.  261 

wagoner, — this  Phaeton,  runaway  with  by  the  steeds 
of  the  sun — perform  the  same  feat  now,  (success 
fully) —  forthwith  let  him  wink  —  close  his  eyes — 
sleep — he  it  speedily  night, — that,  under  its  shadow, 
Romeo  may- 
Leap  to  these  arms,  untalked  of  and  unseen  ! 

This  I  conceive  to  have  been  the  course  of  thought 
in  Shakespeare's  mind.  The  metonomy,  in  the  last 
line,  constitutes  no  objection  to  this  explanation. 
"  Unseen "  would  be  the  ordinary  consequence  of 
darkness ;  and  so,  therefore,  would  be  "  untalked 
of ;  "  and,  although  observation,  in  the  natural  course 
of  events,  would  precede  discussion, — yet,  for  poetical 
purposes,  surely,  nothing  can  be  more  common  than 
such  a  reversal  of  the  actual  "  order  of  their  going." 
The  word  "  wink,"  of  course,  is  used  for  sleep,  in  the 
common  sense  in  which  we  employ  it,  e.  g.,  /  have 
not  slept  a  wink. 

And,  although  I  do  not  conceive,  in  regard  to  this, 
or  any  other  passage  of  Shakespeare,  that  it  is  essen 
tial  for  us  to  make  it,  as  precisely  and  consecutively 
consequential,  as  the  propositions  of  a  syllogism, — 
yet,  011  the  other  hand,  if  it  be  objected  that,  whether 
Phoebus  or  Phaeton  drive  the  chariot  of  heaven  through 
its  stages,  it  is  the  absence  of  the  sun  which  causes 
night, — and  that,  therefore,  in  the  order  of  nature,  it  is 
not  logically  consecutive,  to  supplicate  Night  to  spread 


262  A   SHAKESPEARIAN   RESEARCH. 

her  curtain,  in  order  that  the  eyes  of  him  may  wink, 
whose  metaphorical  retirement  to  repose  is  simulta 
neous  and  coincident  with  the  action  prayed  for,  and 
who  is,  of  himself,  the  potential  cause  of  this  very 
effect  of  darkness, — yet,  figuratively  speaking,  and  in 
reference  to  the  personification  of  the  sun,  as  Phoe 
bus  or  Phaeton,  it  was  sufficiently  so,  and  indeed  it 
was  strictly  accurate  for  the  poet  so  to  form  the  im 
agination  of  it,  and  so  to  beseech  Night  to  draw  her 
curtain  over  the  face  of  things,  after  heaven's  chariot 
eer  had  completed  his  course  and  stabled  his  steeds ; 
and  especially  as,  in  this  instance,  after  his  some 
what  break-neck  drive,  he  might  not  unreasonably  be 
thought  in  need  of  his  natural  rest. 

Although,  therefore,  in  conceiving  of  the  ordinary 
succession  of  day  and  night,  regarded  as  natural 
events,  we  are  conscious  that,  only  upon  the  winking 
of  "  day's  garish  eye,"  does  night  ensue, — and  the 
obvious  idea,  in  this  aspect  of  the  case,  is,  not  that 
the  winking'  in  question  follows  upon,  but  accom 
panies  the  coming  on  of  night, — yet,  otherwise,  when 
we  think  of  the  sun  as  Phoebus,  or,  as  in  this  in 
stance,  as  Phaeton,  driving  his  car  to  the  West,  as 
his  goal, — which  presents  the  image  of  "  civil-suited 
Night "  coming  forward  to  spread  her  close  curtain 
behind  him,  only  when  the  wagoner  has  arrived  at 
his  wonted  mansion  and  has  disappeared  within. 

The  observation  of  Mr.  Heath,  therefore,  on  Bishop 


A    SHAKESPEARIAN   RESEARCH.  263 

Warburton's  note,  though  literally  correct,  is  not 
poetically  so.  In  fact,  Juliet  only  hints  at  greater 
speed,  rather  than  complains  of  the  tardiness  of  the 
sun.  She  addresses  his  coursers  as  fiery-footed 
steeds ;  but,  rapid  as  is  the  movement  of  these  flam 
ing  horses,  still  she  would  be  glad  to  hasten  their 
speed.  The  regular  flight  of  time,  to  be  sure,  is  not 
fast  enough  for  her!  In  this  consists  the  incom 
pleteness  and,  therefore,  the  fallacy  of  Warburton's 
theory.  However  swiftly  the  sun, — Phoebus  him 
self, — fulfils  his  ordinary  course,  under  his  govern 
ment  the  procession  of  the  hours  is  uniform  and 
orderly ;  and  the  pace,  though  rapid,  subject  to 
strict  guidance  and  control.  In  no  proper  sense, 
consequently,  can  the  sun  itself  be  denominated  a 
"  runaway ; "  and  ergo,  as  our  friend  Launcclot 
Gobbo  would  say,  Shakespeare  did  not  thus  offend 
against  propriety  and  the  nature  of  things.  But, 
upon  the  fancy  of  Juliet,  yearning  as  she  was  for 
the  moment  when  she  was  to  be  with  her  lover, 
flashed  the  idea  of  that  irregular,  meteoric  race 
through  the  skies,  which  once  called  for  the  interven 
tion  of  Jove's  dread  thunderbolt,  to  stay  its  progress  ; 
and  if  the  unskilful  charioteer,  on  this  occasion,  were 
not  a  "  runaway,"  and,  par  excellence,  the  runaway, 
in  this  special  connection,  when  we  are  speaking  of 
the  flight  of  time,  and  seeking  to  accelerate  its  prog 
ress,  we  know  not  where  Shakespeare  could  have 


264  A    SHAKESPEARIAN   RESEARCH. 

looked,  for  so  fit  an  example  ;  especially  when  this 
runaway  sally  is  the  very  subject  of  his  fancy ;  and 
its  chief  actor  is  the  very  agent  Juliet  instances,  and, 
we  may  presume,  is  wishing  for,  to  hasten  matters  to 
the  conclusion  she  so  desired.  For,  in  her  fantastical 
imagination,  at  the  hint  of  the  name,  Phoebus  be 
comes  Phaeton ;  this  idea  fills  her  mind,  and  she 
thus  pursues  the  chain  of  thought. 

The  truth  is,  Warburton  is  the  only  one  of  Shake 
speare's  commentators,  who  seems  to  have  had  a 
glimpse  of  the  poet's  idea  in  this  passage.  But, 
though  it  is  strange,  that  what  seems  so  obvious, 
should  not  have  occurred  to  a  scholar  like  himself, 
apparently  his  mind  was  not  of  a  sufficiently  poetical 
texture  fully  to  apprehend  the  association  of  thought 
in  the  text.  Most  other  theories  seem  little  better 
than  ingenious  trifling. 

The  whole  speech,  in  fact,  is  characteristically  girl 
ish,  love-sick,  extravagant,  erratic,  Phaetonic.  We 
must  not  here,  then,  require  Shakespeare  to  produce, 
in  detail,  every  minute  link  in  the  chain  of  his  earth- 
embracing  and  heaven-embracing  associations,  in 
order  to  enable  inconsiderate  eyes  to  follow  the  flight 
of  his  imagination  ;  and  he,  we  will  suppose,  im 
agined  us  capable  of  catching  some  flashes  of  his 
meaning,  when  his  fancy  touched  into  being  those 
seemingly  wayward  and  intricate,  but  still  ever  inter 
mingling  and  harmonious,  shapes  of  light. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


A     000  025  742     8 


